


Lass Mich Rein

by Melda_Burke



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Themes, Anxiety Disorder, Axe isn't a stalker, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Healing, PTSD, Past Violence, Still horrortale still creepadelic, Strong Female Characters, major mental issues, mentions of cannibalism, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2019-08-23 02:09:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16609874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melda_Burke/pseuds/Melda_Burke
Summary: Every other weekend, you volunteer at a soup kitchen that operates out of a homeless shelter. As part of the government-funded rehabilitation program, a pair of monsters is sent to your kitchen to aid in their therapy. The brothers, Papyrus and Sans, are now partially your responsibility. Only…the way Sans stares at you with that wild grin is kind of spooky.And why does he keep calling you Peaches?





	1. A Waltz Through the Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klopf, klopf, lass mich rein  
> lass mich dein Geheimnis sein...
> 
> (Knock, knock, let me in  
> let me be your secret)

“Hey, Joe, when are the new volunteers supposed to show up? I could really use some help chopping up these veggies!” You called from the kitchen’s open set of double doors. Joe came in with a pallet full of canned ravioli and heaved it into the pantry.  He was a stout, ebony-haired, young man with a bright, shrewd set of cerulean eyes. Since you’d started working here, he’d been like a big brother to you.

He checked his watch, as phones were not allowed to be out during prep time, and frowned. “Actually, they should’ve been here ten minutes ago.”

“Well, monsters haven’t been on the surface for very long. They’re probably just a little lost.” You lined up a row of carrots under your hand and diced them up quicker than a salted snail could run. Your fast-paced cooking probably could have earned you a spot on Iron Chef America, but you’d settled with spending your time and talents at the local homeless shelter.

From your position near the door that leads into the dining area, you heard the front door’s distinctive, squeaky whine as if on cue. “Speak of the Devil, and he shalt appear!”  You chirped, and clapped your friend on the back. “I’m gonna go say hi to the newbs.”

As part of the newly-sanctioned, mandatory rehabilitation program, monsters were required to take on a minimum of ten hours of community service each week. For the past two months, you’d witnessed monsters in neon vests picking up trash along the roads, volunteering as fire safety inspectors, monsters working as EMTs spending hours at no-kill animal shelters, and many other positive activities. You’d noticed, too, that a few looked rather happy to be doing it.

You wondered what it would be like to work alongside these people, and you hoped beyond hope that you’d be gifted the privilege of watching them recover. Monsters, after all, weren’t evil, and despite being somewhat aware of the awful things they’d had to endure during their entrapment, you were firmly entrenched in the idea that they could turn their lives around. It would take effort, time, support, and a good amount of therapy, but nothing was impossible.

You’d volunteered to teach classes in prisons, too, before this job, and you decided you’d need to tackle this task in the same way. The differences between prison and the Underground were minor, but there were major similarities; being held captive in a world full of fear, a life where survival sometimes required another’s death, being forced to look out for yourself at the expense of others, and extreme violence. It was all terribly sad, and you often wondered how it was that monsters persevered through starvation, evil, and heartbreak. It was an utter miracle that so many made it to the surface. Six hundred survivors, which was indeed a small number by most standards, but it was quite impressive when taking into consideration all that had befallen them.

 Therefore, you’d have to be careful, considerate, and vigilant to provide a hospitable environment for them. You felt certain they’d like it here; most of the time, it was quiet, peaceful, and cheery. However, there were some…bad days. Days when the alcoholics or addicts came in drunk or high and angry, raring to fight and cause trouble, or when poor, mentally ill folks were unwittingly being difficult; it wasn’t their fault because they couldn’t help themselves.

But there were some people here in the shelters that were…bad news. These were people who were fully capable, mentally and physically, of getting jobs and supporting their children or themselves, yet refused to. Lazy, overdramatic, entitled, childish, and sometimes very violent, you’d had to deal with _those_ residents many times because no one else could stomach it. You were the only one stern and patient enough to handle them, although that wasn’t because you wanted to do it. You were here for those who were honestly struggling, since they were the ones most deserving of aid.

Immediately upon organizing your thoughts, you made sure to wear the most welcoming smile you could muster, and stepped into the dining hall to greet them. They were humanoid monsters, which would make everything easier. How would you have taught a Moldsmol to chop vegetables, anyway? Would’ve been a fun headache trying to tape a knife to a rock monster, too. “Hello, human!” You had to crane your neck to look him in his eyes, which were rather small compared to the rest of his features. His speech was impeded by his jagged, crooked teeth, but he was doing his best to smile back at you happily. “We were sent by Dr. Schnell to commence with our community service!” He proudly displayed a yellow form inches from your nose. Two names were signed at the bottom; one was written in beautiful, tedious cursive, and the other was a half-hearted scribble with no discernable letters. “My name is Papyrus, as you may have read, and this is my brother Sans!” He nudged his shorter brother with his elbow. “ _Say hello, Sans!_ ” He said through his teeth.

“Sup?” He mumbled, never raising his eyes from the ground. He hadn’t looked at you the entire time, and made a point of staring at his worn, holey sneakers. “Name’s Sans.”

Papyrus promptly stuck out his hand, nearly jabbing his fingers into your stomach because of the eagerness with which he did it, and beamed down at you. “It is very nice to meet you, human! I look forward to working with you! I promise I shall be your best coworker, as I –The GREAT PAPYRUS- am somewhat of a culinary master as well!”

He shook your hand so hard, it felt as if he was trying to pump you up like a tire. “Good to meet you, sweetie.” You massaged your fingers and wrist as soon as he let go because he sure had one hell of a grip for someone who appeared to be so brittle. You moved your hand in front of Sans, but were disappointed he kept his hands stuffed securely into his pockets.

“Sans, don’t be rude. Shake the nice lady’s hand! And look her in the eye, for goodness sakes!” Papyrus shot you an apologetic look.

Sans shrugged, and stuck out his hand robotically. His eyes slowly lifted off the floor to meet yours…and, though it might have been a trick of the light, you thought you saw his single eye light dilate to fill his socket for a moment. He stared, all the way through the handshake and kept staring even as his brother started to rattle off questions about what would be expected of him in the kitchen.

You answered every inquiry, although most of your attention was stolen by his brother. You led them on a tour of the entire kitchen, freezer, pantry, and prep areas, but Sans’s eye never once left your face. His intense gaze made the back of your neck tingle, but you ignored it. He was almost certainly harmless, and you tried to convince yourself that the staring was because he was being cautious. It was natural for him to be suspicious after everything he and his brother had gone through. It definitely wouldn’t be fair of you to judge him for being reserved and watchful around humans.

Still, it was…awkward. He muttered out a few words here and there in response to questions or statements directed specifically at him, but otherwise stayed quiet. His eye light bored a hole into you as you forced yourself to appear casual while going through a brief explanation of his duties. “In the recommendations your therapist faxed over, there were several notes on what you both should avoid. First of all, you two will be working with vegetarian dishes only whenever you’re here. Regardless of how short-staffed we are, we will accommodate your need to avoid dealing with meats.” You informed them. “Also, you’ll be washing dishes, but not the real knives or silverware. Fortunately, we only provide plastic butter knives and forks these days after the stabbing last year-“

“Stabbin’?” Sans broke out of his trance.

You bit your lip nervously. “Um…I think it’s best if I don’t-“

“I believe we should know what to expect from our jobs here, ma’am!” Papyrus interrupted.

“Well, it can get a bit hectic here sometimes. A lot of the people we serve have mental illnesses or addiction issues or anger problems, so…well…be prepared to see a few fights, but don’t worry. Security usually breaks it up and no one typically bothers the servers or cooks. We’ll be fine. If I see a fight brewing, then I’ll be sure to get you guys in the back before anything happens, I promise.” You forced a smile, and made a move to get on with the next order of business, when you were stopped by one of your fellow volunteers.

It was Lucy, a mousy, slightly chubby teenager who worked here as part of a program through her church. She was sheltered, an easily spooked type who kept quiet and well to herself. Typically, she would take care of cleaning the rooms, the toilets, the kitchen, and anything else that needed a swipe with a wet cloth. The poor girl was dancing nervously from foot to foot, her eyes darting in the direction of the stairwell leading to the first floor of rooms. “Louis and Knickknack are at it again.” She whispered hurriedly. “I think Knickknack stole one of Louis’s action figures or…or something. He took something, I’m not sure, but Louis is having a fit.”

You cocked your head toward the stairs, finally noticing that there raised voices were echoing down from the upper floor. “I’ll calm them down.” You put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “Can you take our friends here-“

“Shouldn’t go up there by yerself.” Sans cut in abruptly. He was gritting his teeth, eye light locked on the stairs.

“Oh no, it’s alright. Louis has been here for a while. I know how to take care of him. He’s sweet, really. It’s Knickknack that’s the asshole.” Knickknack had an issue with thievery, but if that was his only problem it would’ve been a matter as simple as keeping a close eye on his sticky fingers. However, he was also a drunk…and the type to get handsy with the female volunteers. Over the past six months, he’d harassed two women into quitting and he was toeing the line of being tossed out on his lecherous ass.

Personally, you were sick of his crap. He’d made a handful of passes at you, and Lucy had once admitted he’d tried to corner her while she was doing laundry. Not to mention he’d taken to bullying poor Louis a lot recently, too.  Enough was enough. “Oh sugar, don’t you go up there.” Lucy begged with terrified eyes as the clamor upstairs rose; something upstairs was violently smashed. “Lemme go get Leonard, honey.”

“Go ahead and get him, but I don’t want to scare Louis. I’m going up first.” You marched up the stairs without another word. Reaching the first floor with little issue, you dodged a few of the residents who were trying to escape the mayhem. You could hear Louis crying and screaming angrily, but he seemed to be restricting himself to his room.

“Give him back! Give it!” Louis screeched at the top of his lungs as wet, fat tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes. “I’m an adult! Miss Lucy said I’m grown, so that means I-I can buy a gun and blow your head off if you don’t give it back!”

Knickknack was leaning in the doorway of Louis’s room fiddling with something. You weren’t sure, but it looked like it might be one of Louis’s collectible superhero figurines. He loved those things to death and seeing that asshat teasing Louis was simply infuriating. “Mr. Konig, give Louis back his property. You know we have a very strict policy about theft here.” You stared him down coldly.

“Hello there, tidbit. Louis and I were just playing a game.” Knickknack wiggled the jointed arm of the toy in a mock-wave at you.

“What you’re doing is disgusting and you know it.” You sneered back. “This is the last straw, Konig, you’re done. I’m going to let your caseworker know about this. You’ve got problems, but that’s no excuse to treat another human being like this-“ You gestured toward Louis’s room, where he was now kicking about on his bed and screaming. “-much less someone like Louis. He’s _never_ done anything to you.”

Konig smirked to himself and continued manipulating the plastic limbs. “I’ll stop, tidbit…on one condition.” He let the toy slip through his fingers to the floor and positioned his boot over it, which inspired a despairing cry from Louis.

The look in his eyes made a shiver run down your spine, although you forced yourself to be calm. “Not in a million-“ There was a sad crunch, and Louis screamed like Konig had crushed his very soul underneath his shoe.

 The next few moments were a flurry of commotion as Louis launched himself from his bed, and began grabbing everything within reach to chuck it at Knickknack. A book whizzed by your head with only a centimeter to spare and smacked into the door across the hallway, as well as several other small items. Konig was outright cackling now, even as he backed away from the door to keep from being pelted with random objects. Well, he _was_ laughing until he saw Louis grab his tiny, rickety nightstand and hurl it with all his might. Your body froze in place, preparing for the inevitable pain of impact-

An impact that never happened. “What the ever-lovin’ fuck?” You heard Knickknack shout and it broke you out of your trance long enough to search for the source of his confusion.

The nightstand hovered in place inches from your body, and you gaped at it in shock and disbelief. After a second, you noticed a strange, ethereal glow that sheathed the entire thing. Your heart was still pumping adrenaline through your body, so you jerked hard at the voice behind you.

“You okay, peaches?”


	2. Problem Solver

You quickly collected yourself, despite the fact that your heart was still throwing itself against your ribs, and forced yourself to speak. "My god, thank you!" 

He gave a shrug that was barely more than a twitch of his shoulders, and scowled. "Shouldn'ta come up here alone." His eye light pulsed eerily within his skull as he spoke. "Coulda been hurt bad, peaches. Need t' be more careful."

You were about to reply when Knickknack interrupted with a snarl. "What the fuck're one of you people doin' here?"

Konig's voice was really starting to grate on your nerves. He was shredding your patience like a block of cheddar cheese. "Konig-" You said his name slowly, purposefully. "-we won't tolerate anyone who antagonizes the other residents. If you keep this up, I'll forfeit your grace period and have Leonard escort you out as soon as you can finish packing."

He chose to ignore you in favor of glaring at the monster who’d saved you a trip to the ER. “Wutchya lookin’ at, bucco?” There was enough chill in Sans’ grin to keep the ice caps frozen. “Peaches here wants ya t’ leave, so git.” He jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the stairs.

Konig didn’t move. “Fuck you, puck.”

Sans’ scarlet eye light flared as bright as a miniature sun within the void of his socket. Quick as a wit, he’d already grabbed Konig by the back of his shirt and pants, dragged him through the hall, and magically flung open the window pane. Seemingly without effort, he simply tossed the junkie out the second story window, dusted his hands free of magic, and shoved them back in his pockets. “Sans, why did you do that?!” You ran to the window to peer down at the stretch of sidewalk below, where Konig was now sprawled out. It was a good thing this wasn’t a big building or he could’ve died!

“Problem solved, toots.” Sans smirked. “An’ stop callin’ me Sans. Name brings back memories.” He offered his hand again to you. “I prefer Axe.”

“Oh...um...okay, but you have to know that this won’t look good on your rehabilitation report.” You informed him nervously as you took his hand.

He didn’t bother answering; he simply stared at your hand in his for an uncomfortable length of time. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand. “‘Soft.” He muttered. “Ya know, peaches-” He met your gaze before finally releasing you from his grip. “-I think I’m gonna like it here.”

You swallowed hard and your heart rate sped up more than it had when you thought you were going to be crushed by Louis’ nightstand. “Wonderful...that’s...uh...I’m glad to hear it.” You cleared your throat and ripped your eyes away. There was something unnerving about this new addition, although you couldn’t quite place what it was. Still, he’d saved you a broken face, so you owed him. “How would you like to get a coffee with me, Mr. Osseus? After this mess-” You gestured at the pile of splintered wood and the general disorder the fight had caused. Poor Lucy would have her hands full cleaning  _ that _ up. “-I definitely owe you.”

“Don’t owe me nuthin’.” He grunted. “Woulda done it anyway.”

“All the better reason to thank you!” You chirped cheerfully.

He hesitated, sucking on his razor-like teeth for several seconds before replying. “Wudda’bout Paps?”

“He’ll be fine, I promise. Lucy, Leonard, and Joe will take care of him.” You smiled kindly at him. He wasn’t so bad; he simply needed a bit of TLC. You’d seen it plenty of times; rough around the edges, but sweet as sugar inside. “It’s not far and it won’t take long, but it’s your choice. I’m going there for my lunch break any-”

“Lunch?” He perked up.

“Yes, lunch.” You nudged a massive piece of the nightstand out of the way with the tip of your shoe. “I’m taking my break early to calm down.” You mopped your forehead with the edge of your long-sleeved shirt.

“You pay for the coffee. I got the food.” He nodded decisively.

“Oh!” He grabbed your hand once again, practically dragging you back downstairs. “Well, alright then.”

The quaint shop was right around the corner. You’d been going there for so long now, all of the baristas knew your order by heart. You, in turn, had memorized their names and minor details about their personal lives they’d let slip, which usually meant having an opportunity for friendly conversation outside work. You didn’t have many friends, aside from a few you’d made from playing online games, so in-person interactions were cherishable.

Axe sat, arms crossed over his chest, and made no effort at conversation except in mumbling his order to the server. His eye didn’t leave you for a second. He simply stared as you scrambled about to attempt to make small talk with him as well. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a few of the waitresses watching with concerned expressions. Not many people understood people like the monster sitting across from you; they didn’t realize he wasn’t  _ trying _ to be rude. He simply didn’t have the social awareness to notice what he was doing was odd.

You, on the other hand, worked with people like him on the daily. “So, Axe, how are you enjoying being aboveground?” The coffees were delivered and promptly placed in front of you both as you spoke. “You’ve been up here for...erm...a few months, I believe?”

“Somethin’ like that.” He reached out for the coffee, ignoring the waitress’ warning that it was too hot, and took a giant gulp. “Good shit.” He nodded approvingly at her, while she was left to gape at him. “‘S not too bad, I guess. Noisy.” A car horn, as if to punctuate his observation, honked long and loud right outside the cafe window. He winced and flinched slightly away before relaxing again. “You from ‘round here?”

“Oh heavens, no!” You chuckled, taking a small sip of your drink before you continued. “Well, actually, yes...and still no. I used to live in the more rural area outside of town, and then I moved here to make myself as useful to the cause as possible.”

“The...uh...cause?” He quirked a browbone at you.

“Helping monsters, of course!” You replied happily. “I’ve been here very nearly since the beginning.”

“Yeah, I know.” He took another long, harsh swig of his coffee right as the waitress returned with a tray. He’d ordered quite a lot of food; so much, in fact, that the poor girl had a bit of difficulty hefting it onto the table from the food trolley. As soon as she left, he wordlessly pushed the entire tray over to your side.

“Aren’t you hungry?” You glanced down at the assortment of muffins, donuts, and coffee cakes.

“‘S for you.” He shoved the tray closer.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, wondering how in the heck you were supposed to finish all of this off. “Wouldn’t you like some to take back to Papyrus, though?” You pulled a few napkins from the dispenser, wrapped up a few of the less sticky treats, and offered them to him. “I couldn’t possibly eat all of this. Would you please consider having one or two?”

He debated on it for a few moments before reaching out hesitantly and taking a blueberry donut. It was gone in a single chomp of those massive teeth, but he went slower with the second. You chose a chocolate chip and pecan cookie and nibbled at it between words. “You said you knew I’ve been working for monster charities? How is that?”

He frowned hard at you. “Ya don’t...ya don’t remember me?” He scratched idly at his socket as his irritation grew. “Wait, nah…’course ya don’t...what am I thinkin’? But  _ I _ remember  _ you _ , peaches.” He leaned forward. “Couldn’t forget that face if I tried.”

Well, that made you feel guilty as heck. Wracking your brain, you tried with all your might to recall meeting him previously, yet came up with nothing. How that was, you weren’t certain because he didn’t exactly have a common face. “I’m sorry? I...do you remember where we met? Maybe that’ll jiggle something loose up here.” You tapped the side of your head playfully.

“Was a few days after the barrier broke. Still starvin’, but wasn’t as bad as before. Animals up there t’ hunt, an’...after people figured out we was up there, you an’ yer people came up the mountain.” The sharp tips of his phalanges bit into the empty, styrofoam coffee cup. “Bringin’ food an’ water, an’ tents...felt like paradise after the hell we been through.” His eye light shrunk, nearly going out as the memories overtook him. “Had us all lined up at tables stacked with food; canned stuff mostly, boxes of dry cereal, and towers of bottled water.” He pinned you with the weight of his words. “You were runnin’ ‘round, handin’ out extra stuff…” His smile grew fond. “Put a bowl of peaches into my hands like it was nuthin’, an’ ran off again. Never thought I’d see ya again, peaches, but I’m damn glad I did.”


	3. That Boy's A Monster

In all your time with various charities, you hadn’t once ran into someone you’d previously helped. It’d been at the back of your mind, of course, and you’d often wondered how they all got on after you’d parted ways. This encounter with Axe was special; it made your heart swell in your chest with pride. “I’m so happy we got to see each other again, too.” 

Astonishment first, and then a genuine smile tugged urgently at his mouth. “Yeah?”

A blush crept over your cheeks; when he smiled,  _ really _ smiled, the haunted look in his sockets seemed to all but disappear. For all the cracks and missing bits, he wasn’t hard on the eyes when he smiled. “Yeah.” Lunch break was almost over, but you didn’t want to go back. If you were late on returning, no one would say anything. “So, aside from chucking asshole junkies out windows, you have any hobbies?”

“I’m a world-champion napper, does that count?” He deadpanned. “Nah, but seriously, I’m a pretty borin’ guy. Mostly just work, sleep, an’ read mah life away.”

“You never struck me as the reading type.” The coffee was lukewarm by now, and mostly gone, yet you felt compelled to learn more about this enigma who’d waltzed into your shelter. Every stolen moment somehow felt invaluable. “What do you read?”

He smirked. “Books. Magazines, too, if I’m feelin’ adventurous.”

“Smartass.” You giggled. “I love a good book, too. I’m a high fantasy/sci-fi/thriller kind of person, although I’ll read almost anything if it’s good enough.”

“Sci-fi?” He rolled his eye light, but he was grinning. “Stuff’s like wipin’ yer ass with a turd; completely pointless.”

“Okay, remind me to never show you my collection of Star Trek memorabilia.” You snickered into your cup.

“Hey now-” He pointed at you, face suddenly serious. “Star Trek is the goddamn  _ exception _ to the rule. ‘Sides, it ain’t a fuckin’ book. My turn t’ ask a question, peaches. What’s yer favorite book?”

“Darnit, that’s an evil question and you know it.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

“You expectin’ a big, scary monster t’ be nice?” He snatched a cookie off the tray, still smirking like the cat who stole the cream. “Can ya even  _ see _ outta those rose-colored glasses, starshine?”

Admittedly, he was terribly funny once he was on a roll. Guys with a sense of humor...ye gods, that was an awful weakness of yours. “Does it have to be only one book or can it be a series?” He wiggled a single phalange in reply, one boney brow cocked up like he knew exactly the awful torture he was putting you through...which he  _ did _ . “Fine...uh...I guess I’d have to go with The Little Princess.” You decided with a nod of your head. “Now you’ve gotta tell me yours!”

“Guess it’s only fair.” He rested his skull on his hand. “Hands down...gotta be...uh...Jane Eyre.”

“What?!” You gaped at him, until you realized he was chuckling. “Why would you mess with me like that? You’re awful.”

“You got no  _ idea _ how awful I am, peaches.” He snickered for a while before finally taking pity on you. “It’s Black Holes And Baby Universes.” He caught the awed expression on your face and winked. “Told ya I was borin’ as fuck.”

You shook your head. “No, no! That’s incredible...darn, I wish I could understand that stuff. I’m horrible at math or science. It’s still pretty cool, though.” You caught a glance at your watch and your heart skipped a beat. An hour?! How had it been an hour already?! You jumped to your feet so fast your chair skidded back with an embarrassingly loud screech. “Oh goodness, I’m late!” You gathered up the remaining treats into a doggie bag the waitress had left on her last check-in before hustling up to the register.

His smile instantaneously disappeared. “Heh...yeah...guess we lost track o’ time, sorry.” He watched you fumble with your wallet for a beat before reaching out and snagging it out of your hands. From the depths of his jacket pocket, he pulled a wad of cash and handed it over to the cashier. “The rest’s the tip.” He muttered when she offered him his change.

“We were supposed to split the-”

He shoved the door, holding it open with his shoulder until you were through. “Lied. Sorry, I do that.”

“That’s the kind of lying my wallet could get used to.” Your comment made him snort, but he was quiet the rest of the walk. The pair of you stopped in front of the door to the shelter, awkwardly smiling at each other until you mustered up the courage to finally say something. “That was...it was nice to...um...thanks. I don’t wanna be weird, but maybe we could do something like that again sometime?”

He blinked, disbelieving. “You sure? Don’t wanna bother ya.”

“What? No! I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.” You shuffled from foot to foot. It’d been a while since you’d had a friend you could visit whenever. Most of your online friends lived in completely different countries or states; none were close enough to visit without paying a two hundred dollar (or more) plane ticket. “Would you like to come over tonight? I make a pretty mean vegetarian lasagna.”

“Y’know, toots, where I’m from-” That strange, slightly lopsided grin made a sudden reappearance. “-comin’ over for dinner is first base.”

Swallowing hard around the sudden lump in your throat, you choked out a quiet laugh. “Is it really?”

“Sure is.” His expression was hilariously composed. “An’ dessert’s like sayin’ ‘take me, I’m yours’.” After a second, the two of you burst out laughing. “Damn.” He scratched the back of his skull nervously. “Haven’t laughed like that in a while. Kinda nice. What time’s dinner?”

“Around seven, usually, if that works for you.”

He grabbed his phone from his pocket. “Sorry,” He tapped away at the screen. “Gotta hard time rememberin’ things these days. Gonna set an alarm.” He shoved it away once he was done. “Mind if Paps comes along? He ain’t comfortable bein’ alone for long in the new apartment yet.”

“I’d love to have him.” You fidgeted with the doorknob. “Guess we have to go and face the music for coming back so late.”

“Worth it.”

 

By the end of the day, you were exhausted, yet giddy as a cracked-out squirrel. Konig had, fortunately, crashed into some decorative boxwoods before rolling onto the sidewalk. He was mostly unhurt except for a few splinters, scratches, and bad bruises. Leonard had scraped him off the concrete, brought him to his room, and oversaw him packing his bags. It was a true relief to have the man gone, although you would have been lying if you said you didn’t feel a tug on your heart. Clearly, he had issues, but he’d brought it all on himself.

Louis was still shaken up, but it wasn’t something a few leftover treats and the promise of a new toy couldn’t fix. It was a crying shame how his life had turned out, you thought, as you sat on his bed rubbing his back. He was born with a kind of epilepsy that restricted his development to the point where he had the mental/emotional capacity of an eight-year-old. It was degenerative, sadly, and he’d been getting worse once the prices on his medications went up. His elderly parents couldn’t afford to take care of him, although his disability did pay for a caretaker to help him with his appointments and such.

“Is he a superhero?” Louis asked as he wiggled into his batman pajamas.

“Is who a superhero?” You were busy picking out a bedtime story for him while he got ready for bed. His bedtime was nine, but everybody except Leonard typically left at five-thirty, so you typically had him get ready for bed in the late afternoon.

“The guy with the weird head.” Louis took a running jump to land with a flop on his bed. “He’s got powers. He  _ saved  _ you. Like Superman saves Lois Lane or...or Batman!” He puckered up his lips in thought. “Yeah, he’s kinda grumpy and mumbly like Batman. He needs a cape, though.”

You cupped your hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles.“I don’t think Axe would like a cape. And Batman doesn’t have any powers.”

“Bullcrap, he’s totally Batman, you’re just being technic...techanic…” He pouted.

“Technical? Good job, Louis, that’s an awful big word. Where’d you learn it?”

“Cartoons.” He said proudly.

Louis was freaking adorable. From the moment he’d arrived, he’d captured your heart. In some ways, you felt he was more of a kid brother than a charge. Being without a family to speak of, that was a big deal. Once he’d had his story, you flicked on his Green Lantern nightlight, pulled his blinds, and turned on his television. “Leonard will be up at nine to tuck you in. Goodnight, sweetie.” You told him before closing the door.

“G’night, sissy!”

Aaaaand...there went your heart. You had to bite your lip hard to keep from crying. You stood outside his door for a few minutes trying to compose yourself before heading back downstairs. You passed Papyrus and Axe on the way down, which prompted Papy to salute you with a spatula. Axe, however, gave you a curt nod and a half-smile that released a cage of butterflies into your stomach.

 

Now, you weren’t exactly Paula Dean, but you definitely knew your way around a cookbook. Vegetarian lasagna and homemade breadsticks with a special spread you’d whipped up were on the menu. You had red wine, but decided it probably wasn’t a good idea to give any  _ red liquids _ to them for drinks. Not that Papyrus seemed like the kind of person who’d like it anyway, so you settled for blue raspberry kool-aid. 

It was five minutes to seven when you heard a knock on your door...followed by a very loud announcement of their arrival. “HUMAN! HUMAN! WE’VE ACCEPTED YOUR KIND DINNER INVITATION! THANK YOU FOR HAVING US!”

“Paps, it’s a door. People can hear through doors most o’ the time.”

“You say that, brother, yet you never seem to hear me when I call you from your room.” Papyrus scolded. “Is this you admitting you purposefully ignore me?!”

“Heh, no comment, bro.”

They were perfect guests, although Axe allowed his brother to do most of the talking. It was mildly disappointing because you were looking forward to seeing that looser side of him you’d glimpsed earlier. Papyrus asked you any question that came to mind, and did it loudly enough that you were certain your neighbors now knew everything from your favorite color all the way to if you matched your socks or not.

“This hooligan never bothers to match his socks.” Papyrus huffed.

“Bro, they’re all white.” Axe ripped off a chunk of breadstick like a T-Rex shearing a mouthful of meat from its prey. “It don’t matter.”

“Some of them are different sizes! You’ve got the short tube socks, the long tube socks, the tube socks with that little red stripe on the toes, the tube socks with the  _ yellow _ stripe, and-”

“As thrillin’ as it is t’ talk ‘bout socks, I think we better get our asses in gear.” Axe scrutinized your nodding head. “Peaches is gettin’ sleepy.”

You yawned widely. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to-” You broke into another, jaw-cracking yawn. “-be rude. I was at the shelter starting at six today. I don’t usually go in that early, but I had to help Joe organize the food deliveries.”

“S’awright, peaches.” Axe scooched back his chair. “Ey, Paps, since she made dinner, I think it’s only fair we help clean up.”

“Oh, good idea, Sans!” Papyrus clapped his hands together excitedly. “What a wonderful way to show our gratitude. I do believe life on the surface is a good influence on you!” He merrily went around the table to collect the plates.

“You guys can keep the leftovers.” You laid your head on the table, relishing the feel of the cool table cloth, and your eyes continued to slip closed no matter how hard you tried to keep them open. Vaguely, you registered the clatter of dishware, running water, and then a sensation of being carried.

Blearily, you cracked your eyes open to find Axe smirking down at you. “‘Ey there, sleepyhead.” He hefted you up a bit to get a grip on your bedroom door knob, stepped inside and plopped you lightly atop the covers. “Me an’ bro are gonna git goin’ soon. Thanks for dinner an’ shit. I’ll see ya t’morra at the shelter, a’ight?”

He tried to step back, but you grabbed him by the edge of his ragged hoodie. “If dinner’s first base...what would a goodnight kiss be?” Maybe sleep was making you delirious because you  _ never _ would have said that if you were fully conscious.

He bent over the side of the bed, eye light glowing like a dying star in the dark. “Depends,” He murmured. “Might mean I should ask for yer number or a date. It’s all on the lady, ‘course.”

You rattled off your digits without hesitation. “Text me and I’ll consider the date.” You told him in a whisper. “Think you can remember to do that?”

“I think-” He pressed his hands into the pillows on both sides of your head. “-I’m gonna have a hard time takin’ my mind off it.” He slanted his mouth over yours for half a second, and it was like the world stopped moving on its axis. “G’night, peaches. Don’t let the bedbugs bite...that’s  _ my _ job now.”


	4. Promises

_ *hey r u up?* <sugarskull> _

_ *Yeah, working on some paperwork for the day job. Why?*<peachykeen> _

_ *wanted 2 c u. no big deal we can talk l8r if ur busy*<sugarskull> _

_ *Please, come save me from the boring paperwork! XD*<peachykeen> _

_ *here i come 2 save the day*<sugarskull> _

_ *Seriously, Mighty Mouse?*<peachykeen> _

_ *don’t knock the mouse peaches.*<sugarskull> _

“If it’s a day job, why you working at night?” You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Axe’s voice. For such a huge guy, he was extremely stealthy. Axe cut a massive figure; six feet tall with bones as broad as log pillars in some places. The thinnest parts of him were as wide as three of your own fingers, and some people would find all of this incredibly terrifying. To you, though, he was simply Axe; a big, introverted goof.

You sighed heavily, pushing the screen of the laptop closed and turned around in your chair. “Because my boss needs these forms filled out to hand over to HR tomorrow afternoon.” You were glad for the break. After nearly five hours solid of typing, your wrists were sore and there was an odd tingling sensation running down the length of your elbows. “What did you wanna talk about?”

“Was wonderin’ if ya’d made a decision yet.”

Right, the  _ date _ . “I’d love to.” You hadn’t thought of it much, to be fairly honest, but it wasn’t like you were ever going to say no in the first place. A tiny part of you recognized why you’d put off thinking about it, although that voice had no place in your life anymore. You’d moved on ages ago. “You can choose where we go and what we do. I don’t really care what it is, I’m easy to please.”

“Are ya now?” He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned against the doorway of your office. “How ‘bout a walk, then?”

“Sure, where to?”

“Yer bed.” You choked on air while he stood there, grinning his boney butt off. “Just pokin’ fun, peaches.” He raised his hands in his defense, but then his voice dropped an octave and an odd light twinkled in his sockets. “I’d rather take the scenic route t’ that particular destination, if ya know what I mean.”

“Har har, you’re a freaking comedian.” You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny the sharp jolt of excitement running through you at the thought. In order to distract yourself, you decided to get up for a midnight snack. “I’m gonna grab something from the fridge, if you want to join me on my raiding crusade.

He followed without comment, watching closely as you retrieved a couple of jello cups, a can of whipped cream, and a pair of spoons. “Since we’ve established why  _ I’m _ up, why are you?” You leaned on the counter at an angle as you tugged open the seal on your snack pack.

His expression immediately darkened. “Couldn’t sleep.” He stabbed the jiggling, green treat like it had talked smack about him in high school. “Didn’t wanna bother Paps by turnin’ on the tv. Walls’re thin, so he’d hear it an’ prolly make a fuss.”

“Do monsters not have sleep aids?” You wondered aloud.

“Yeah, sure we do. It’s called a mallet t’ the head.” He was smiling, but it looked a little bitter, too.

You sucked down a morsel of jello, lapping thoughtfully at the spoon, but keeping your eyes on him. “You feel like talking about it?” The question was subdued, spoken in as neutral of a tone as you were capable of.

He clawed at his blinded socket, which made the most horrific, scrabbling sound as if he were taking a needle and scraping it down a slate chalkboard. “Don’t think ya’d like me much if ya knew what runs through mah head at night.” He knocked back the remainder of his jello and crushed the pack in his grip before tossing it into the trash.

You finished off your jello, then led him by the hand to your room. It was sparsely decorated because of how little time you actually got to spend at home between work and volunteering. It was dimly lit by flashing, purple plasma ball. The both of you took a seat on the edge of your bed. “Just so you know, I don’t care what you did down there.” If he was losing sleep over it, that was proof in itself he wasn’t a bad person. “You’re a survivor; that’s something to be proud of. Or, at least, you don’t have to beat yourself up over it. Trust me, I know.”

“Sorry, toots, but I kinda doubt that.” He played idly with the zipper of his hoodie, more than likely to keep his nerves in check, and he was hunched over as much as he could be. It was as if he were attempting to cave in on himself like an unstable mine.

“Can I show you something?” Rolling up your sleeves, you stuck out your arms for him to see. Knotted threads of scar tissue criss-crossed your wrists, twisting up the inner flesh of your forearms like poisonous vines. “When I was sixteen, I was head-over-heels in love.” A drizzle of nostalgia trickled into your heart. “He was sweet and kind of shy, but he could make you piss yourself laughing if you got him to talk. We were supposed to get married right out of high school, you know?” You clenched and unclenched your hands; your muscle strength hadn’t ever quite been the same. “Only...he died. One night, he went to bed with what everyone believed was a stomach ache, but passed away in his sleep from an abdominal aneurysm.”

Axe’s grip tightened on your hands, scowling fiercely at your wrists as if he could growl away the scars, yet he remained silent. “To say I was devastated would be the worst sort of understatement. I felt like I was betraying him for simply being alive. I went through all the self-blame, shame, and agony you’d expect, and I tried so... _ so _ many times to-...” You pressed your lips into a thin line to gather your self-control. “Well, you can see what I tried to do, no need for long-winded explanations.”

When Ash had died, you felt alone. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel you no longer had a place in the world or people didn’t love you or anything of the like; you’d only wanted to be with him. “After the third time, my therapist suggested I try to go out and build new relationships. Not necessarily romantic ones, but just find new people to spend my day with. She signed me up for a few volunteer positions and I fell in love with helping people. If it weren’t for that, I might’ve ended up succeeding someday.” Taking back your hands, you yanked your sleeves back down. “My point is most of us have stories, Axe, but we can’t let our stories  _ be _ us. The pain might not ever fully go away-” You rubbed your wrists ruefully. “-but it does fade with time. Ignoring the wound allows it to fester, but accepting it and tending it will allow it to scar over.”

He caught your left hand, shoved up the edge of your sleeve, and stared at the pinkish, puckered stripes. “Fuckin’ promise me you ain’t gonna do this shit again.” He hissed.

“I won’t do it again. It was years ago, I know how to handle things better.” There were too many nights you’d spent with ice on your wrists, too many embarrassing incidents where you dropped things most people should be able to hold onto, and too many people who depended on you. Many of the cuts had damaged the nerves and weakened your tendons. If you could go back, you wouldn’t have done it at all.

“ _ Promise _ .” He demanded.

A bubble of warmth rose up in your heart at knowing he was concerned. “I promise.” You scooched up to the head of the bed. “Well, I’m pretty tired.” The paperwork was almost finished anyway, although you’d have to get up a bit early to put the final touches on it all.

Axe nodded, making to get up. “See ya later, peaches.” In one fell swoop, you caught his hand to yank him gently back. It wasn’t that you had the real strength to move him, only that he allowed you to do so. Wiggling under the blanket and giving him a soft look was the only prompting he needed to understand what you wished of him.

The blanket was thick, warm, and large enough to span both of you as long as you stayed close, which wasn’t a problem at all. “Heh, never thought I’d get t’  _ bed _ ya so soon.” He grinned as he folded his arms behind his head.

“Oh, don’t look so smug. You’ll not be getting  _ boned _ tonight, sir.”

“Duzzat imply I’ll be gettin’ boned some  _ other _ night, peaches?” Crushed gravel couldn’t have been rougher, nor could an echo of a howl from the hounds of hell gone as deep as his voice did. If it was a trick of the light, you couldn’t be sure, but his teeth seemed to have grown instantly sharper. That mouthful of razors gleamed up at you maniacally. “Once I have ya, it ain’t gonna be anyone else. Might wanna think on that for a bit ‘fore we take this further.”

The zipper of his hoodie bit into the flesh of your arms as you leaned on his sternum. Heart pounding at the lightning flash of lust in his socket, you lowered your head to place your lips only a few centimeters above his mouth. “I have a feeling I won’t need anyone else, if I’m yours.”

His hands cautiously lowered to your hips. The tips of his distal phalanges dug into the flesh of your butt because the sheer span of them made it easy to cup your entire ass. “When yer mine, anyone who looks atchya wrong is dead. When yer mine, anyone who touches on ya without permission is dead.” His socket shone with a dazzling, eerie, ruby light that cast bloody shadows all over the room. “When yer mine, anyone who spouts disgustin’ shit atchya is dead. An’ when yer mine, you’ll never walk right again.” He winked smugly. “I promise ya that.”


	5. Brother Shadows

Cuddling with Axe all night had been an experience, if nothing else. You found out he sounded worse than a chainsaw with a dull blade when he snored, although that wasn’t as much of a bother as it might have been. After all, almost everyone in your family snored, even your mother, with the sole exception of you and your first cousin. So, having grown up in such a  _ loud _ household, it was honestly rather comforting. Nighttime silence had a way of amplifying the mind’s darker thoughts and fears.

  
He was, however, gone by the time you woke up. Waking up in an empty bed was disappointing, but he’d left a note explaining he had to be back before Papyrus woke up. Though you’d only known the pair of them for a day now, the bond between them was clear. Oh, of course, they might pick at each other, but didn’t all siblings?    
  
You finished off last night’s paperwork, then went through your usual morning routine, but decided to put a bit more effort in than you usually did. A touch of lipstick, a smudge of eye shadow, a little eyeliner...it wasn’t a crime to try to look nice, even if one’s duties were at a homeless shelter. You finished off your look with a professional, black pencil skirt and a lavender blouse. After slipping into a pair of sensible shoes, you grabbed your purse, phone, and keys.   
  
As you made your way out of your modest townhouse, you decided to check your phone for messages from the shelter. Upon reading the mass text sent out by Lindsey, another of the many volunteers, your heart dropped. She’d gone through her monthly bed bug inspection and found evidence of bed bugs in a few of the rooms. Someone had brought  _ bed bugs _ into the shelter. Not on purpose, obviously, but those irritating things were so hard to get rid of! They’d have to close the shelter, hire a technician, and just...ugh. The last time this had happened, you’d been so freaking paranoid about bringing any of those icky, blood-sucking bastards home with you. It made you feel itchy all over just thinking about it.   
  
Now you’d have to go to work with that brewing at the back of your mind. You could probably drop by the shelter to see how things were going after work. The actual employees of the shelter were the ones in charge of organizing the response to these larger issues. However, the management did tend to delegate most of the real work (no surprise there) to the volunteers.    
  
You sighed, silenced your phone, and continued down the street until you reached the office. You spent the day printing out those forms for your boss to hand over to Human Resources, answering his phone, taking messages, and doing everything that a good secretary who covets that sweet raise does. It was a stressful job, sure, but it paid well and it didn’t make you want to pull your hair out by the roots. But by the time six pm rolled around, your eyeliner was feathering and your wrists were aching. It was late fall, too, so the sun was beginning to set.   
  
You stretched them ruefully. Someday, you’d take your doctor’s advice and buy that ergonomic keyboard and mouse, but for now the braces would have to do. The walk back home somehow always seemed so much longer than the way there.  _ Oh wait,  _ you thought with a low groan in the back of your throat,  _ I can’t go home yet _ . You immediately slapped the button at the next street crossing and waited until it was safe to hurry across.    
  
Your back was to an alley, and, as you sprinted across the intersection, you didn’t notice a dark figure peeling itself away from its brother shadows. It followed at a brisk pace, yet kept a fair distance away. As you stepped lively along the sidewalk, you paid no mind to the sound of footfalls behind you. While it was an off-hour for people to milling about, there were still a few wandering around. You continued toward your destination, completely oblivious other than the occasional, unexplainable chill running down your spine.   
  
The streetlights staved off the haunting darkness of a drowsy city at night, but their orange light was anything but warm or inviting. Instead, it felt like you were stuck under the judgemental gaze of several malicious, one-eyed giants. The dark would have been preferable. And those thoughts made your pace grow determined and brisk. Up ahead, you could see the tattered awning stretching over the shelter’s stoop.   
  
Your shadow was closing in now; they were only a few feet away. You felt eyes boring into the back of your head, and now you couldn’t dismiss the feeling that something was definitely wrong. An unfamiliar, gloved hand roughly grabbed your shoulder, and you cried out in surprise, which was quickly muffled by another clapping over your mouth. For what felt like a lifetime, you struggled like a fish flopping on the sand; a hopeless, frantic fight against the inevitable.   
  
You were being dragged slowly, yet surely, backward. The heels of your shoes left black trails on the concrete where you tried to dig them in to gain enough purchase to free yourself. Your eyes were wide as saucers, but they might have bulged out of your sockets a bit when the door to the shelter opened and your luck reversed itself in a single instant.   
  
“EY! WHAT THE FLYIN’ FUCK?!” The cigarette dropped out from between Axe’s teeth as he stared for a millisecond at the scene taking place only yards from where he stood. Instinct took over, and he was in front of you in a blink of an eye. Lava-red smoke seeped from his left socket as a line of bones materialized and hovered behind him. They looked as though they had once been rather rounded, but now they were nothing more than gnawed, broken spears.   
  
Your assailant dropped you like a hot potato and took off. Stunned, you could watched with wide eyes as they hightailed it in the opposite direction. In the blink of an eye, Axe disappeared, only to almost instantly reappear at your side. His sockets were narrowed to slits, and his jaw was clenched so tight you could hear his teeth grinding against each other. Reading murder in his expression, you reached out to touch his arm. “Damn, that was close!” You laid a hand to your chest.    
  
“Want me t’ find ‘im?” Axe growled in response. His tone made it clear that if he found them, wherever he may take that person, it would be anywhere  _ except _ the police station.A mugger wasn’t worth risking jail time, so you shook your head, still a little at a loss for words.    
  
After a few minutes, you’d mostly regained your composure and took a few deep breaths. Teasingly, you tapped his ribcage with a ragged, slightly fear-crazed giggle. “You, sir, have impeccable timing! That’s twice in two days you’ve saved me.”   
  
His eye lights were still focused in the direction in which the thief had disappeared. “Was just out for a smoke.” He glared into the dark for several more moments before curling an arm around you. “Ain’tchya s’posed t’ be at home right now?”   
  
“Oh, so you know my work schedule already, stalker?” You didn’t know any other way to make yourself feel better than to blow it off with humor. It was easier to laugh it off than to mull over what might have happened if Axe hadn’t chosen to go out for a smoke break right at that moment. “Kidding, kidding, anyway...yeah, but after Lindsey told me about the bed bugs I figured I should drop by to see if anyone needed any help.”   
  
“Nah, we already got everyone’s stuff washed an’ loaded into those industrial dryers for heat treatment.” Axe pulled you closer to rub a thumb over your cheek. “All the residents are gonna be temporarily housed in the sister location ‘til they can get a technician out here t’ do some heavy-duty pest control.”   
  
“Huh, well, who took care of that?” You blinked in confusion. Usually it took two or three days for such a massive undertaking to be accomplished. A lot of the residents were particular about handing over their things to be cleaned or tossed out, regardless of if it was for their own good or not.    
  
“Paps an’ me.” You let him lead you over to take a seat on the stoop, where he promptly pulled out another cigarette. Out of courtesy, he didn’t light up, but merely held it in the corner of his mouth. “Paps took care o’ callin’ the other shelter to arrange the housin’ situation, had Lucy go to a Salvation Army t’ get everyone some clean clothes t’ wear while their stuff is bein’ treated, while I  _ persuaded _ the reluctant ones an’ scheduled the date with the exterminator.”   
  
“Wow, color me impressed. That’s a lot to handle on your second day!” You beamed at him. “You’re well on your way to earning a second date, mister.”    
  
He smirked as he played with his lighter. “Good t’ know, peaches…’cept we ain’t even had that first one yet.”   
  
You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Since the shelter is closed, that frees up my weekend. We can still take that walk.”   
  
He snorted. “That works. For now, though, I’ll settle for walkin’ ya home.” He rose with you still under his arm and led you firmly down the street. “I’d warp us both back there, but I already used a lotta magic today.” He explained.   
  
“Warp?” You repeated, and then recalled how he’d seemingly teleported from the stoop to your side. That must have been what he was talking about, and it made you wonder if that was something all monsters were capable of. In your experience, there seemed to be a few common things that all of them were able to do, but there was mainly a great variety in abilities. “Oh, like that thing you did earlier.”   
  
“Had t’ restrain a few o’ the residents.” He informed you flippantly. “For some reason, they seem t’ think puttin’ a couple fingers in mah socket would stop me from holdin’ ‘em down.”   
  
“ _ Doesn’t _ it hurt, though?” You inquired. It would make sense, of course, since he didn’t exactly have nerves. “At the very least, I’d assume it to be an uncomfortable breach of personal space.” One’s eye socket was extremely personal, if your opinion was ever asked.   
  
“I ain’t gonna be stickin’ shit in ‘em for the thrills, that’s for damn sure.” With a flick of a scarlet tongue, he moved the cigarette to the other side of his mouth. “But it don’t ‘xactly hurt, neither. Just kinda...weird.”   
  
“Like someone putting a finger in your belly button?” You giggled when he shot you an incredulous look. “What? I’ll try almost anything once.”   
  
He shook his head. “Humans are fuckin’ freaky.” He glanced your way and winked. “I like it.”   
  
“If you play your cards right, you’ll find out exactly how freaky this particular human can be.” You weren’t usually this daring, but something about Axe brought out the bold and playful side of you.   
  
“Oh, izzat so?” He licked his teeth with a thoughtful look in his eye. “Guess it’s a damn good thing I’m tops at poker, then. Ain’t afraid t’ say I know when t’ hold ‘em an’ when to fold ‘em…’them’ bein’ yer legs over your head, sweetheart. Hope ya can handle that.”   
  
Gods, you could feel a blush working its fiery way down your cheeks all the way to your neck. He had no right to be this charming. “I...I can.” The stammer gave you away, though, and the smartass, self-satisfied smirk on his face made it clear he knew he’d won out.   
  
“Sure ya can, peaches.” He purred. “An’ if ya can’t…” He put his mouth to your ear. “...yer gonna  _ learn _ .”   
  
“OH LOOK HERE’S MY HOUSE!” You practically sprinted for the door, leaving him chuckling like the sexy, sinister bastard he was.    
  
“Ain’tchya gonna need this?” He jingled your key ring to get your attention. His grin widened before he sliding the length of metal you’d  _ so wisely _ labeled ‘house key’ into the lock. “First lecture on bein’ with me, sugar.” He wiggled his phalanges in front of your face. “Never take yer eyes offa these, heh.”   
  
“How did you do that?” Your jaw dropped open. You’d had one hand on your purse this entire time!   
  
He shrugged. “I’m a  _ magic man _ , peaches.” He arched a browbone at you. “See ya t’morra, beautiful.” He then turned on his heel and evaporated into thin air.   
  
**********************************************************************************************   
  
“Sans! Where have you been?” Papyrus demanded, tapping his foot in an annoyed fashion. “You said you were only going out to smoke one of those death sticks!”   
  
“Nah, I decided I wanted t’ go home an’ rethink mah life.”    
  
“Well, it’s about darn time!” Papyrus dusted off his hands as he finished off throwing the final load, his own clothes, into a separate pile to be washed the next day. The younger skeleton had already changed out of his things while Axe was gone.    
  
He popped the lid off of a tub containing a completely new outfit for Axe to wear home as well. “Now, go change in the restroom and put your things with mine. We don’t want to bring any bugs home with us!”   
  
This place was an organized mess in Axe’s opinion. People bringing in diseases, bugs, and whatever else, but nobody except the volunteers actually seemed to care for any of it. That country girl -Lucy?- he’d overheard her on the phone with one of the shelter’s managers earlier. After a few minutes of listening in, he’d had half a mind to rip the damn receiver out of her hand and...and...he wasn’t like that anymore. He was  _ better _ than that now. He was in  _ fucking therapy _ for stars’ sakes, and that wasn’t even something he’d liked the idea of back before Queen Unprick had usurped the throne.   
  
He got angry thinking about it.  _ And _ he was irritated because these damn clothes didn’t fit him right. When he tried to move his arm, he could hear the fucking seam rip a little. Not any of those things were the real issue here; he was still fuming over that dick who’d tried mugging you. He could play it cool, he was a smart guy more than capable of controlling himself, and he knew showing the slightest hint of temper could possibly ruin the rapport he was trying to build with you. He wanted more than anything for you to like him; your opinion meant more to him than kicking the snot out of some thug.   
  
He left the bathroom in a huff and wanted yet another cigarette. Hell, he wanted two cigarettes...no, why stop there? His mouth was big enough, he’d smoke a whole fucking pack at once!    
  
“What’s for dinner tonight, Paps?” He couldn’t keep the grump entirely out of his voice, but he knew Papyrus wouldn’t catch it.   
  
“Hm, I was thinking we could make your favorite!” Papyrus strolled out ahead of Axe to greet the crisp night air. “Black bean burgers and fries with ranch on the side!”   
  
“Thought ya hated burgers.” Axe scratched at the edge of his bad socket. Since coming to the surface, it didn’t bother him as much anymore. It still itched like hell on his off-days, but it was nothing compared to how it used to be.    
  
“These are completely vegetarian! Very healthy for you.” Papyrus hummed happily. “And the fries...well, those are still greasy, but I figure you deserve it. I’m so proud of how well you’ve adjusted, brother. I know it’s been harder for you than me, because I am so incredibly adaptable, but you’ve made excellent progress. You’re even making friends!”   
  
“Friends?”    
  
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know! How embarrassing, I can’t seem to remember her name...the nice lady who had us over for dinner the other day?”    
  
“Oh, yeah.” Axe’s mouth twitched up at the corners. “She’s a doll.”   
  
“I couldn’t have said it better myself, now step lively, brother! We’ll want to make it home before too long!” Papyrus led the way down the street. After getting lost that first day, they’d managed to memorize the twists and turns. The entire city was set up in such a way that Axe suspected it hadn’t quite been so much  _ planned _ as it had been hastily, haphazardly erected in accordance with necessity.   
  
The buildings were old, and made of stone like deathly gray, pockmarked flesh, and their windows were lined like wrinkled, blind eyes staring down at the dirty streets below. Cars roared on by, as drivers were more willing to speed through when the traffic had finally reached its hour of relief. He hated the noise; it felt like a perfect veil for secret footsteps in the night. The car horns, rush of tires on asphalt, and the howl of wind through the skyscrapers...it grated at his nerves. He especially hated the sound of the planes and helicopters; his soul would drop to his feet each time he heard the world-ending roar at night.   
  
But he would stay. Paps liked the excited bustle of the city, apparently, and kept talking about how thrilling he found the energy of the place. As much as Axe hated it, he wouldn’t leave his brother alone on the surface to move to the quieter suburbs or countryside, although that was where he wished to be.   
  
Their apartment building was a sturdy, brick construction, ancient and with creaky, walnut flooring, but it was warm. It was warm, the rent was cheap, and it was better than anything they had underground. “I’m gonna go lay down. Headache.” Axe kicked off his shoes at the door, shoving his feet into a pair of house shoes before slinking toward his room.   
  
In days long gone, Paps might’ve called him out for being lazy. Not so now, his brother only watched him with a hint of sadness before heading straight to the kitchen. So, Axe was left to his own devices for now. The street noise was thankfully muffled by the thick walls, and the thickly-built skeleton heaved a sigh of relief before flicking on the light.   
  
His room was a ‘disgrace’ as Paps often reminded him; there were clothes strewn about, dirty cups and dishes he neglected to take to the kitchen stacked on his dresser, his bed was nothing more than a mattress with a duvet and a single pillow. The most notable thing, however, was the multitude of empty and open cans of peaches thrown all over the place. He stepped on one of these as he flopped onto the bed with a groan.    
  
Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be so rough on his nerves.


	6. Dealing Out Promises

A few days later, it was early Friday morning and you were enjoying your morning in a leisurely fashion. On Fridays, the office opened two hours later and closed an hour earlier than usual. Those were always the best; waking up to know that you could sleep in if you so desired and enjoy a real breakfast for once. Your home was silent, apart from the sound of your fork clinking against the bowl of scrambled eggs slathered in ketchup.  
  
The pile of mail that built up throughout the week, mostly bills and junk, lay in front of you. Going through it was a necessary evil, much to your chagrin. Your parents had sent you the usual card with the traditional $20 bill tucked inside; you’d tried to dissuade them several times from doing it, but your protests always fell on deaf ears. Smiling, you set aside the card to put with your collection and expected to next lay your hands on some kind of grocery story advert or fast food coupon sheet.  
  
Instead, you came upon yet another letter-style envelope folded carefully inside the local newspaper. “What the heck?” Had your parents accidentally sent you another card? It had happened a couple of times before; your mother was a fairly forgetful woman. But the odd thing was that there was no address and no postage stamp...had this even gone through the mail at all?  
  
The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as all of your senses were oddly put on alert. You tried to calm your automatic response with reason. The letter was probably meant for someone else. Yet, you couldn’t shake the idea that it was _meant_ for you. A few stray ideas ran through your mind; in college you’d been a bit wild...maybe this was an attempt at blackmail? Why, though? You had no money, no sizable inheritance, and you certainly weren’t going to play victim to such bullshit. Besides, you’d done nothing illegal aside from trying pot that one time.

Anthrax, too, passed through your thoughts, but was just as soon dismissed. You weren’t important enough for a poisoning, although there did seem to be a small bulge near the bottom of the envelope. So, with the edge of your nail, you lifted the glued-down flap to open the suspicious letter.  
  
Inside, you could see a small plastic bag to which was attached a post-it note. In hasty scribbles, there was a small stanza written out with blue ink.

****This old man, he played one**

**He played knick-knack on my thumb**

**With a knick-knack paddywhack, give a dog a bone**

**This old man came rolling home.**** **  
**  
Dread coiled like a snake in your gut, and something told you not to touch the plastic bag directly. “This is some horror movie shit right here.” You mumbled to yourself as you grabbed a pair of kitchen gloves and rushed to the bathroom to get a pair of tweezers. When you returned, you pinched the edge of the bag to pull it out.  
  
Slowly, a cylindrical object came into view that was, at first, impossible to identify. It was thick in a fleshy way, and smudges of congealed reddish-brown goo clung to the inside of the bag. “ _What the actual fuck?!_ ” You exclaimed in a croaky, incredulous whisper.  
  
It was a thumb, a mother-effing THUMB, who the fuck would send you a fucking thumb?! For a moment, you stared at the gruesome thing with an open mouth like a soccer mom who’d just been told her little Timmy is a spoiled brat; horror, then disgust, and finally outrage.This was going to fuck up your entire morning routine! Here you were, enjoying a fine couple of hours to yourself, and then some asshole decides to get you involved in this shit!  
  
Now, you’d have to call the police, let them tromp on your clean floors, hang tape all over your kitchen, and take your scrambled eggs and coffee as evidence. Not to mention you’d be late for work now! Honestly, it was enough to make _you_ want to murder someone. With a groan, you snatched your phone off the table and dialed up your boss. “Hey...um...Shirley?” You held the bag up to the light, completely prepared to take a picture if she asked. “Yeah, I’m gonna be late to work. Somebody mailed me a thumb.”  
  
That conversation went about as well as could be expected, but in the end you were given a pass. The 911 operator you spoke with afterwards was a kindly older lady who advised you to promptly wash your hands as thoroughly as possible and not to touch your eyes, mouth, or nose as a precaution. There wasn’t much else to be done other than wait for the police to arrive, and so you stayed on the line with her in companionable silence.  
  
Soon enough, three police officers, along with a couple of paramedics, were crammed into your tiny kitchen. One of them took you aside for questioning, while the others worked on examining the thumb to determine its legitimacy.  
  
“And you can’t think of anyone who would do this?” Officer Wainwright pinned you with a skeptical look. “No jealous ex-boyfriends, lecherous employers...possibly someone in your past who was abusive? Have you ever been in contact with a known violent offender?”  
  
“No to the bit about abusive boyfriends or anyone like that.” You frowned. “I pride myself on being a particularly good judge of character, so...there’s no one I can think of that’s close to me who could, or would, do anything more heinous than go a few miles over the speed limit.” You crossed your arms as you continued to think. “I do volunteer at a homeless shelter in town. There’s been a few homeless, ex-convicts that have passed through my care, and mental illness is sadly a reason quite a few people out there have nowhere to sleep at night.” You shook your head. “But no one there has ever been murderously violent.”  
  
He arched an eyebrow. “You suspect someone was murdered?”  
  
You cocked your head to the side. “Do you think most people would just sit there and _let_ their thumb be hacked off?” You matched his neutral, yet interested expression. “Why, do you think I did it?”  
  
He shrugged. “You’d be surprised at how many people call in their own crimes, miss, but no...I don’t believe you had anything to do with this. That is, however, a personal opinion. I’m afraid we’re going to have to take you to the station until we can have a certified coroner take a look at the body part, dust everything for prints, run the print of the thumb through our system, and open up an investigation.”  
  
“Hopefully, you’ll figure out the identity of the poor soul who-”  
  
You were cut off by one of the officers calling for officer Wainwright. “There’s another message here, it was on the opposite side of the note.” He held it up in his gloved hands for the other to see. “It says ‘He won’t trouble you anymore.’ Can you make heads or tails of that, ma’am?”  
  
You repeated the words to yourself, and then sighed heavily. “No, sir.”  
  
“Are you _sure_ ?” Officer Wainwright turned back to you. “Is there anyone who’s ‘troubled’ you recently?”  
  
You mulled over the question for a moment. “W-well, I think...maybe it could be talking about that mugger?” You shrugged helplessly. “I was almost mugged a few days ago, but I was able to get away because one of my friends yelled at the person to scare them off.”  
  
“Do you think you could give us the contact information for this friend? We’ll need to question them as well.” He handed his notepad over to you to write everything down. Once you were done, he finished up with a few more questions about how you received the letter, when the letter might have been placed on your stoop, and a few inquiries into the details of the mugging itself. By the end of it all, you were mentally drained.  
  
The officers and paramedics left, and, while no one had taken your breakfast, you weren’t hungry at all. Instead, you decided to quickly text Axe to warn him of the upcoming storm.  
  
_*Hey, could you please come over for a few minutes?* <peachykeen> _  
  
_*Sure thing, gimme a sec.* <sugarskull> _  
  
“What did ya need, sweetheart?” You didn’t have to turn around to know he was now sitting on the couch behind you. You could hear the thud of his boots as he propped his feet up on the coffee table.  
  
“Some sick asshole chopped off someone else’s thumb, put it in an envelope, and left it on my doorstep.” You rubbed your temples wearily. “I had to call the police and they figured the thumb might belong to that mugger from the other night. I had to tell them about it, and they said they’d need to question you. I’m not sure if that means you’re a suspect or a witness, but I figured it was best if you heard it from me.”  
  
For a few seconds, there was only a cool silence. “Ya think it was me?”  
  
You whirled around immediately. “No! Of course, I don’t! You...you’d never... _you wouldn’t do something like that_ .” You sat heavily down beside him, head in your hands. “I don’t know anything else for certain, but I’m sure of that.”  
  
He laid a hand on your back. “I would kill for ya, peaches.” His oddly cheery, teasing tone made you look up. “But I ain’t dumb ‘nuff t’ put the evidence on yer doorstep an’ get the cops called on mah ass.” He chuckled to himself and pulled you into his lap. He took your chin to make you look at him. “If I were gonna tell ya I’d murdered that mugger, I’d have done it once I had ya under me, an’ I’d have probably spouted some sexy-ass shit ‘forehand.” He winked, grinning like the Cheshire Cat directling little lost Alice. “Murder is foreplay where I’m from, baby doll.” 

In spite of everything, or perhaps because of it, he was able to coax a smile out of you. “How can you be so sure I’ll be under you?” You watched his confident grin fail the slightest bit before going on. “How do you know _you_ won’t be under _me_ ?”  
  
“We don’t know-” He drawled lazily. “-’less we go for a _tumble_ an’ see who lands _on top_ , heh.”  
  
Without missing a beat, you snuggled closer to him. “Does that mean you admit you’re _falling_ for me?”

He curled a lock of your hair around one finger. “Darlin’, I’m already headin’ for the bottom of that hole. Just waitin’ for ya t’ jump in after me.”  
  
His entire hand snuck up to entangle itself possessively in the strands at the base of your neck. “This bastard might think he’s hot shit for pullin’ a fucked up stunt like this, but he’s got another thing comin’ -mainly me, if he tries anythin’ else. Fuckin’ coward drops a li’l token on the stoop like a goddamn cat an’ ‘spects that’ll win anyone over.” He scowled, a hint of menace in his eyelight. “I’ll talk t’ the police, sure, an’ when I’m done I ain’t lettin’ ya be alone ‘til all this shit is sorted. ‘Tween Paps an’ me, ya won’t have to worry.”  
  
You did have to admit that, after having a bit of time to get over your initial shock, worry had crept in around the edges. It didn’t exactly take a psychologist to see whoever had gone to such grisly measures could possibly be a bonafide psychopath and a stalker. That didn’t bode well for you until the person responsible was caught. It was fortunate they’d made their first outreach attempt such a drastic one, otherwise the police mightn’t have gotten involved. Unfortunately, you knew little attention was paid to stalking cases. “Are you sure it’s not a bother? I wouldn’t want to burden you or Papyrus.”

He scoffed. “Paps loves company. Kid’s like a fuckin’ puppy, never mind the teeth. As for me-” He licked the edges of his teeth and the glow of his eyelight brightened slightly. “-I like my me-time, same as anyone, but I think I’d enjoy seein’ mah girl more often if she don’t mind me hangin’ ‘round.”

“We haven’t been on one real date yet, and I’m already your girl? That’s a little presumptuous, I’d say.” You teased.  
  
He smirked at you knowingly. “Pretty damn sure I got the button in this round ‘cuz I’m dealin’ out all the love. Yeah, yer my girl. If anyone wants t’ buy-in at this table, they gotta be ready to lay their ass on the line t’ take a seat.”  
  
He sat back to enjoy watching you giggle and the shadows under his sockets seemed to fade away. Once you’d relaxed, he ran his fingers through your hair in quiet contemplation. “I don’t usually make a habit outta dolin’ out promises.” His words came out soft, thoughtful, and slow. “But you’ll always be safe with me, peaches, an’ you’ll always be mah girl. I’m stubborn that way.”


	7. Roses are Red

Several stressful days, and a couple of police interviews later (one for both you and for Axe), and there still weren’t any real answers. You were told they’d found out who the thumb belonged to via their criminal database, and that they would bring you in for further questioning at a later date. For now, though, you weren’t allowed to know who the unlucky victim was. This both frustrated and worried you; who was to say what this monster considered ‘troubling you’ meant? Would Axe be targeted? Papyrus? Or, heaven forbid, Joe, Lucy, Lindsey, or Leonard? It was all too much.  
  
The letters didn’t stop at the first, either. In the following days, you received one bright and early each morning. Yesterday, you’d woken up to find a bouquet of roses, too. Naturally, you touched none of these and delivered all of them as evidence to the local department on your way to work. All of this gradually wore you down to the point until, both metaphorically and literally, you began looking over your shoulder with expectations to see some prick in a Scream mask holding a butcher knife or something.  
  
With all of this nastiness, you were forced to postpone the date. It made you feel awful to cancel on Axe after everything that happened, but he hadn’t seemed to mind overly much. Private time between the pair of you was as easy to him as opening up a warp straight into your living room, so the date itself didn’t matter apparently. Knowing you had someone who could get to you quickly if anything happened made you feel infinitely safer, too. Actually, being with Axe in general gave you a stronger sense of security than you were familiar with at all. He’d remained true to his word; you weren’t ever left by yourself for longer than was absolutely necessary.  
  
Then there was also Joe. Once you’d warned him about everything that was going on, he was terribly upset. Whenever you spoke in a hushed tone about how scared, angry, and frustrated you were, he’d get the darkest look on his face. His presence was such a comfort; whenever Axe and Papyrus weren’t there, you spent a lot of time with him on your breaks.  
  
Now, for instance, was your final break of the day. You’d sat down on one of the upturned metal compost buckets used for peels. Your head was in your hands as you stared through your splayed fingers at the pristine, tiled floor.  
  
“Hey, how’s the day treating you?” He pulled up a bucket of his own across from you.  
  
“Okay, I guess. Got another one of those letters again this morning.” You groaned.  
  
“Have you...uh...read any of them?” He asked as he scooched a few inches closer to lay a hand on your shoulder.  
  
“Gods, no.” You wrinkled your nose in distaste. “I’d rather not find more human bits and pieces, thanks.”  
  
He sighed heavily, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah...well, how do you know they have anything else inside?”  
  
“I’d honestly not risk it. For all I know, this person might put some kind of poison powder in them or...I dunno…” You threw your hands up with a disgruntled noise. “Jesus, Joe, I feel like I constantly have to watch my back or I’ll end up like that poor Saldana lady.”  
  
“From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t seem like _he_ wants to hurt you. He might only be out for the people that would harm or upset you.” He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “I’d say those monster brothers, or maybe even I, have more to worry about than you do.”  
  
You leaned back against the metal pantry racks. “I just wish the letters would stop.” You lamented. “All I can picture when I close my eyes is that half-rotted thumb and-” A buzzing sound interrupted your words, which prompted you to quickly check your cellphone. “Shit, it’s a call from the station. I’m gonna have to take this, sorry.” You stood up quickly, giving your friend a languid hug before running out a side door to get a bit of privacy for what would undoubtedly be an emotionally exhausting call.  
  
“ _Hello, ma’am, this is officer Wainwright. We’d like you to come down to the station ASAP._ ”  
  
You chewed at your lip; the pain gave you something to focus on as you tried to process this sudden request. “Um...o-okay, yeah...I’ll be there in a few minutes. Why, has there been any headway in the case?”  
  
“ _Ma’am, it wouldn’t be professional to explain this over the phone. Please come down to the station and we will talk further. Thank you, and goodbye._ ”  
  
You barely had time to respond before he was already hanging up the phone. Huh, well, that was weird. It sounded pretty urgent, so you did what you could to get someone else to cover the rest of your shift before heading straight to the station. Luckily for you, it wasn’t a terribly long walk, but you maintained a hurried pace.

 You were a little winded by the time you got there, and took a seat on one of the many benches inside to catch your breath. The walk had burned off some of the anxious energy, and you felt more composed now, although that didn’t make sitting still any easier at all. When you were finally ushered into the room, your heart quickened with an uncomfortable mix of worry, fear, and horrific anticipation.

Officer Wainwright was standing by the door, while Sheriff Dalton rose from his seat to greet you with a polite handshake. You took the chair opposite him, noticing the grave look in his eyes as he studied you. “I suppose you’re incredibly curious as to why we’ve brought you down for a third time.”  
  
“Well, I’d assume it was because I’m finally allowed to know who the victim was? You probably want to ask me a few questions about them.”  
  
The sheriff nodded curtly. “Exactly, but there is more than that.” He picked up a stack of papers, all of them contained within clear plastic baggies, and placed them on the desk in front of you. “We’ve been reading the letters this person’s been sending you and they were so...disturbing that we brought in an expert to examine them.” He sighed heavily. “Based on the letters and the perpetrator’s behavior thus far, we’re trying to build a solid profile to get an idea of what he might try next.”  
  
“Wow...um…” You ran a hand through your hair nervously, and tried to avoid looking at the letters. “I...I actually didn’t think anyone would do anything.”  
  
His brow furrowed in confusion. “What makes you say that? Stalking is seriously dangerous behavior and can pose a threat to the whole community if it isn’t addressed.”  
  
You could feel a few tears burning at the edges of your vision until you were forced to blink to clear it. For so long, you’d wished someone would have said something... _anything_...like that to you years ago. “This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced this type of thing.” You admitted in a defeated voice. “When I was in high school, some asshole stalked me for three years straight. It got so bad, my boyfriend at the time would walk me home every day to make sure I didn’t get kidnapped. Nobody else, aside from my parents, really seemed to care-”

 You had to stop there as your voice began to waver. “-S-sorry...it’s...it’s just really hard.” It had taken you so long to feel safe again. Hell, you’d had to move into the city before you were able to put it completely behind you.  
  
He pushed a box of tissues closer to you. “Have you considered the possibility this could be the same person?”  
  
Your heart nearly froze as your eyes went wide. _No_ , you hadn’t considered that at all! The stalking stopped not long after Ash died. You figured it couldn’t have been the same person...that you only had incredibly shitty luck to be going through this again. “I...no...no...it couldn’t...I can’t…”  
  
“Did your previous stalker give you things, too?” The sheriff lifted a few of the letters in the stack. “If we can get a sample of the handwriting, maybe a print or two to compare, then we could see if this is all connected or not.”

You took a few deep breaths. “They used to leave notes in my locker.” You remembered those so vividly; they’d all been printed on beautiful, baby-pink paper printed with roses and perfumed accordingly. To this day, you absolutely _hated_ the smell of roses. “And on my car...and sometimes I’d find chocolates in the mailbox.”  
  
“Well, let’s hope this person didn’t graduate from chocolates to body parts.” The sheriff wiped a hand over his worried face. “I think we should move on and get this done as soon as possible. I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how terrible this must be for you.”  
  
You dabbed at your eyes with a tissue. “It’s alright, I’ve learned how to deal with it over the years.” You inhaled slowly, purposefully, before letting it all out. “Okay, I’m good.”  
  
He eyed you with uncertainty, but nodded. “The thumb matched the criminal records of a mister Johan C. Konig.” He pulled a folder from his desk drawer to slide it your way. Konig was smirking at the camera in his mugshot. “From what we’ve gleaned, he went by ‘Knickknack’ on the streets. Did a bit of time for petty theft, B & E, and a couple counts of grand larceny.” You raised your gaze to meet the sheriff. “We also know he was staying at a local homeless shelter until fairly recently -a homeless shelter you’ve previously stated you work for.”  
  
Your mouth dropped open. “Y-yes, I...I mean...I’m the one who-”  
  
“You signed off on the paperwork that terminated his stay.” He took back the folder. “So, would you like to explain what led you to that decision?”  
  
“Well...um...he’d been sexually harassing the female staff...he’d grab us when we weren’t looking or make inappropriate comments and...h-he…” Your fingernails dug into the skin of your forearms, which made you glance down in surprise; when had you crossed your arms? “He was disrespectful and disruptive toward the other residents. He was awarded several warnings about this, but continued his unacceptable behavior until it culminated in an incident with one of our long-term, mentally disabled residents that caused serious property damage.”  
  
“Right, so I would say that explains the motive and that weird nursery rhyme he added to the letter.” The sheriff rubbed his forehead wearily. “For now, I think it would be best if you stayed away from that shelter. This person is a danger to you _and_ everyone around you, and it would be a shame to put the disadvantaged in such a situation.”

 That stunned you, but more than anything else it infuriated you. How dare someone take away one of the few things in life that gave you happiness? This sick person had the gall to wiggle their way into your life, throw your world into chaos, and then act as if they were doing you a favor. Now, you were going to have to give up what you loved. This meant _war_ . “If it will protect them, I can do that.”  
  
Conceding to avoiding the shelter wouldn’t come without your own plan. If they expected you to wait helplessly at home while they searched for this disturbed sicko, they had another thing coming. Hopefully, you wouldn’t get faulted if you were to buy a metal baseball bat and electrify the damn thing. Probably would be best to invest in some home security, too; it wouldn’t hurt to have locks on the windows or add another one to the door.  
  
“I can see those wheels turning in your head.” The sheriff thick mustache twitched up into half a smile. “This is a ‘stand your ground’ state, ma’am, so don’t you hesitate to defend yourself if it comes down to it, but try to let us do our jobs, eh?” He winked at her playfully. “We’ll do our absolute best to find ‘em before anything worse happens, you have my word.”  
  
While his assurance didn’t ease all of the tension from the rest of the conversation, it _did_ go a long way toward regaining your trust that someone capable was handling the situation. The most unnerving part of the entire visit was being required to read through the letters. They believed you could possibly recognize things within them that might point them in the right direction.  
  
As the words of a madperson echoed in your head, it grew increasingly difficult to pick up the next page. Mostly they praised you; your genuine nature, your kind heart, and calling you every synonym for beautiful in the book. They spoke as if they knew you personally, which obviously they didn’t. These letters put you on some kind of untouchable pedestal like you were some holy relic or something. And that was precisely how it made you feel -like an object. A thing to be worshiped with nigh on religious fervor.  
  
Other times, their words were dark and brooding. Less often, they cursed you. Your ignorance of their existence was seemingly taken as a personal insult. What struck you the most was a single line in particular.  
  
‘ _Don’t you remember the roses?’_ __  
__  
“Oh gods…” You practically threw the letter down on the desk as if it had bitten your fingertips. You stared in horror at it for a moment before raising your eyes to meet Sherrif Dalton’s. You honestly should have known when you saw that bouquet on your doorstep.  
  
“What is it?” He rose as you jumped from your chair to your feet, taking a few steps back from the letter.  
  
“Roses-” Your voice was more than a whisper, but only a little less than a sickened croak. “-they always sent _roses_ before…” A hand to your heart went, as you feared it would leap from your chest to escape the room. Either this person knew what you’d gone through in the past and were hoping to fuck with you _or_ they were the one to have done the stalking.  
  
Officer Wainwright was now the closest to you, since you’d been unknowingly on the retreat, and it was he who spoke up now. “A shared behavior pattern.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We would just need to match the handwriting to confirm it. Could you please tell us where you turned in evidence of the previous harassment?”  
  
Your mouth felt as dry as cotton as you stumbled over your words in an attempt to give them the address of the police station from your hometown. Once that was done, they assured you they had all the information they needed...for now. You were finally free to go, but the unease didn’t leave you once you were out of there.  
  
It lingered in your stomach like you’d somehow swallowed a boulder whole. Every step on your way home felt as if you were trudging through wet sand with lead weights attached to your ankles. On some level, you wished to reach out to your parents for emotional support, but it didn’t feel right to concern them with it. They had their own stress to deal with now that your grandparents were living with them.  
  
Right now, you just wanted to forget about things for a while. It may not have been the healthiest choice, but your feet lead you straight to a local liquor store. A couple of minutes later, you were lugging your pathetic coping skills home in three non-descript paper bags. After shoving your key into the lock, dropping the bags on the couch and flopping down next to them, the stupidity of your choice began to set in. Really? What were you going to do with all of this? It wouldn’t make you happy or fix things. That bottle of Rum Chata wasn’t going to chase away the nightmares you’d have, fight off the memories you pretended didn’t haunt you, or kill off this psycho who insisted on ruining your life.  
  
But...you knew something, or rather _someone_ , that could. And so, you whipped out your phone to text one of the few people who could make this shitty world seem that much brighter. It took him a few minutes, maybe because the clock told you he’d likely only gotten off work less than an hour ago. He would have come without the text, what with the shifts he and Papyrus now took to give you nearly constant security, but you needed him now.  
  
“If that face were any longer, it’d touch the floor.”  
  
The joke wrenched a chuckle out of you, but only just. “I’m making drinks.” You made a half-hearted jab in the direction of the bags. “We’re going to drink, and I need you to be the funny, snarky, handsome asshole who makes me laugh until I can’t breathe or think.”  
  
He arched his boney brow at you. “Uh-huh… welp, I ain’t gonna complain ‘bout free booze. Liquor me up, starshine, and I promise I’ll have a whole routine that’ll have you pissin’ yerself while we get piss-ass drunk.”  
  
You stared at him for a moment. “I called you ‘handsome’ and you seriously have no comment on that? No sly innuendos...nothing at all?”  
  
He scoffed and reached for one of the bags to inspect its contents. “Pfft, sometimes I think with somethin’ other than mah dick...namely mah stomach.” He lifted out the Rum Chata, grinning. “Ya better have some fuckin’ Yoohoo, or I’m gonna warp down t’ the corner store...an’ it better be in the cans, too.”

“I haven’t drank Yoohoo since I was like...eight...or something.” But you were smiling, and now you were freaking craving that cheap, chocolate-flavored, processed junk. “You know what? Let’s go down and grab everything we want. I _need_ this.”  
  
“Ya keep sayin’ sexy shit like that and I might just propose, baby.”


	8. Crazy for You

The next morning, you were groggy, had a foul taste in your mouth, and had woken up sprawled in a heap of junk food wrappers and cans. No hangover, though, so that was a huge plus in your book. Curious to find clues as to what happened last night, you took in the messy living room. The tv was blaring something from the weird side of Youtube, there was half a birthday cake  on sitting on the microwave, and Axe was still here, too, although for some reason one of his socks was now hanging from the ceiling fan and he was missing his shirt. You groaned because you felt like complaining; curse drunk-you for making such a mess for sober-you to clean up!

Axe turned his his head, not bothering to lift his sockets open more than a crack. “Sugah, yer a hot mess. Real hot. Ain’t never seen a woman who could eat a one an’ a half a cakes by ‘erself.” He slurred with a grin.

“Oh, gosh, you aren’t still drunk, are you?” You groaned as you struggled to right yourself.

Axe held up a bottle, which had little more than a sip left, and up-ended the rest into his mouth. “Nah, I’m about as fine as you are.” He pushed himself off the couch and winced as his bones crackled and popped. “Damn it, I sound like a bowl of fuckin’ Rice Crispies.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t have work today.” You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you wobbled to the kitchen. “How does going out for breakfast sound?”

“Woman, I swear you  _ keep askin’ _ for a ring on your finger.” He snapped his fingers and all of the trash began to swirl in a small tornado in the middle of the floor. “Grab a bag, beautiful. I’ma do some dunkin’.”

You quickly shook out a garbage bag, stood by the entrance to the kitchen and held it open for him. He smirked at you, rubbed his hands together, and proceeded to send the self-sustained trash tornado zooming for the bag. One by one, the cans, crushed bags of chips, soda bottles, candy and food wrappers, and grocery bags were tossed out of the tornado faster than Charlie Sheen was off the cast of Two and a Half Men.

“Geeeet dunked on...heh.” He gave you a lazy grin. “That was one helluva night, peaches. Gotta do it again sometime.” His gaze rolled over you from top to bottom appreciatively. “Maybe next time, we can skip the alcohol and have a  _ real _ party.”

Your cheeks blazed with heat. To have an excuse to hide, you excused yourself to the bathroom to have quick shower. As you passed your room, you had to walk by the narrow hall table on which you always kept your phone while it was connected to the charger overnight. A faint  _ ba-beep _ came through, so you picked it up to check the notifications-

“My...gods…” You whispered to yourself as you saw the number on the bar.  _ Fifty  _ texts had gone through on your phone last night long -all from an unregistered number. A queasy, greasy feeling, completely unrelated to the copious amount of liquor you’d drank, shifted deep in your stomach. Your heart nearly stopped on the third message.

< _ I know he’s there. Why him?! Don’t tell me you don’t know what he and those abominations did… it isn’t safe. You’d be safe with me. You’ll always be safe with me. I’ve loved you for so long now, it doesn’t seem real. _ >

And then the fourth.

< _ I can see you both. How could you?! You never drink! It’s that fucking lunatic and his brother, they’re bad for you… you never would’ve made such a reckless decision before. I’m going to stay here all night, don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t try anything. I’ll swear I’ll fucking kill him if he does! _ >

You swallowed hard to fight against the twist of your stomach that threatened to send you running for the toilet. The phone slipped from your shaking hands to hit the floor with a loud thud. From the living room, you heard a curious grunt from Axe, and then heavy footsteps as he came plodding behind you. “Whassamatter, babydoll?” His eyes moved from you to the phone before scooping it up. The edges of his dagger-sharp phalanges clacked against the screen as he, too, read over the barrage of texts.

“He was  _ here _ .” How did neither of you notice? Your habit of keeping the blinds open and the windows cracked in summer now chilled you to the bone. He must have been right outside the living room -or maybe the kitchen- windows. “Oh god, Axe… fuck… fuck…” Like a broken record, mindless panic made your needle skip to repeat the phrase in a terrified loop.

“‘Ey, listen t’ me.” He grabbed your shoulders to stop you from pacing a hole in the carpet. “Yer gonna be fine. We’re gonna call the cops, maybe forward a screenshot of the messages to ‘em, an’ then fahgeddabout this for now, ‘kay?” He swiped his thumb across the screen to dismiss the application, dropped the phone back on the table, and pulled you into a hug. “‘M sorry, sugar.”

“Why are  _ you _ sorry?” You clung to him like a tiny, frightened koala. If anything, you should be sorry for dumping this whole mess into his lap. 

His fingers scratched at the edge of his socket as he gritted his teeth. “Maybe if I hadn’t been fuckin’ wasted, I coulda caught the bastard.” Then, like a lightbulb popping from a surge, his single eye light blew wide and an eerie grin slowly replaced his tired, worried frown. “Oh, I fuckin’  _ hope _ I catch ‘im.” His fingers rubbed your back in circles as he stared blankly at the wall, but then graduated from those simple, comforting touches to drumming his fingertips in a thoughtful, agonizingly deliberate  _ tap tap tap _ along your shoulder.

“Axe?”

He didn’t respond to you; he was lost in a world you couldn’t see. “... cut off the blood flow… make ‘im stay alive for  _ weeks _ … nah... _ months _ … gonna find out how eyeballs taste… “

Your heart dropped to your feet, and, for once, you felt a twinge of fear. He was utterly unmoving, except for that eternal  _ tap tap tap _ as his muttering grew nearly gleeful and ever more graphic. “A-axe...please…” His tapping was growing forceful, and the sharp phalanges pricked dangerously through your thin, cotton shirt.

“... they pop like grapes, buddy… pop…  _ pop _ … heheheh…” Magic began to swirl around the two of you, picking up speed until the pictures on the walls began to lift and slam back. A mystery droplet hit the top of your head, and when you looked up, you realized his teeth were glistening with something sanguine and thick. “... knock, knock…  _ knock yer teeth down yer throat...  _ “

This was getting dangerous now, and you were split between self-preservation and the need to snap Axe out of… whatever this fit was. Tugging on his shirt didn’t seem to do much, and squirming only made his embrace constrict. He didn’t appear to be hearing you, either, which didn’t leave you with many options. The only other thing you could think of was to shock him out of it, and that could go one of two ways. Hopefully, he’d snap out of it… on the other hand, you could end up on the receiving end of that vicious grin, but that was a chance you were willing to take.

So, you stood on your tiptoes and had to practically climb him to get close enough to gently press your mouth to his. You were careful about it, of course, and nothing close to invasive or pushy. He just needed to calm down a bit, that was all. It appeared to work; the air instantly stilled, the paintings crashed back against the wall for a final time, and he went completely silent. You pulled back to study his face, and he still had that feral grin, but there was something heavy hanging in the air now. His eye light pulsed, gleaming with a strange new shine. “Honey…” He purred. “...sugar… sweetheart… _ peaches _ …” He grabbed your hands to pin them against the wall. “...yer a real  _ snack _ , ya know that?”

For a second, you thought you’d made the absolute worst decision of your life. “Axe...please...please don’t-” You stammered.

He tilted his head, still grinning wide and wild. “You ‘fraid o’ me, peaches?” He leaned in until his nasal ridge barely brushed the end of your nose. “Don’t be.” There was hint of a plea in those murmured words. “Yer holdin’ horror’s hand, beautiful… there ain’t no safer place in the world.” He traced the line of your jaw with reverence. “I just wanna lick you head t’ fuckin’ toe, ya tasty li’l ball o’ sugar.”

Well,  _ that _ certainly broke the tension of the moment. “Okay, that’s really freaking weird, not gonna lie.” You had to laugh over the absurdity.

“I’m pretty fuckin’ weird, starshine. Better get used to it.” He nuzzled into your neck, barely grazing his filed teeth over your skin. “If ya don’t wanna end up on yer back yellin’ mah name, then you should probably go take that shower right about now.” But he didn’t make any move to let you go. His touch slithered down your face and neck to the joint of your shoulder, then to jumped down to your stomach to tease its way to the waistband of your pants.

You sucked in a sharp breath, and he chuckled darkly into your ear. “Dunno if I can wait for breakfast, starshine. I’m fuckin’ starvin’, and I’m cravin’ somethin’...  _ sweet _ .” He popped the button on your jeans free. “Last chance t’ go for that shower, sugar…” The elastic band of your panties pulled away from your skin as he fiddled with them.

Did you want this? Okay, so that was kind of a stupid question to ask yourself. A better one would be did you want this  _ now _ ? Right… another dumb question, darn it.  _ Should _ you do this now? You hadn’t known him for long, and thanks to the your anxiety-ridden state of affairs, the pair of you hadn’t managed to go on a proper date yet.

But you hadn’t enjoyed being with someone like this at all since Ash passed, and you deserve some happiness. With the two of you having been minors at the time, and him raised as a devout Catholic, there’d never been a chance for you to experience anything this way. That kind of pressure might not be something Axe would want to handle on a whim… or even at all.

And was it truly okay to be selfish just this once? Axe made you feel like you were walking on air whenever he was around and you liked to think he felt the same way. He didn’t seem like the type to bother going above and beyond if he didn’t want or have to. “Are you.... I-I don’t know if… how can you be sure this is what you want?” You blurted out.

He drew back a bit. “Huh?” He appeared genuine confused for a moment, then shook his head. “‘Cuz I know, that’s how. Ya ain’t a distraction or a one-time-deal t’ me. Hell, I was jerkin’ off t’ you long before I met ya a second time. I wanna do shit to you that’d make the damn devil blush.” His hand slipped farther down until he could leisurely pet and play with you.

A choked, surprised sound escaped your lips that caused him to shoot you an evil smirk. “Ya know what I wanna do? I kinda wanna get you all hot ‘n bothered, put a bit o’ red on those cheeks, put you on your knees, an’ snap a picture o’ you takin’ my cock. Maybe send it to psycho while I’m at it...make ‘im wanna find me, so I can fuck his day up real good.” He licked a path up the side of your neck to your cheek. “Whadda ‘bout you, starshine?  _ You _ sure? I ain’t gonna do nothin’ that won’t have ya beggin’ for more.” 

His fingers took a hard dive inside that made you jerk up and moan. Ruby shadows played on the wall behind you as smoke began to drift up from his left socket. “I need a yes or no, peaches.”

Oh, well, to hell with it. “ _ Yes _ . Please and thank you with a cherry on top! Fuck me until I forget my own name.”

“I can do that an’ more, sugar.  _ Trust me _ .”


	9. Nine Lives

Axe smirked as a warp thrummed into existence, and backed you straight up through it without feeling the need to remove his hand from inside you at all. Somehow, in that crazy, weird out-of-space-and-time manner of his warps, you went from standing to then being flat on your back in bed. That wasn’t to be said that you were complaining in the least, but sometimes the warps were a touch disorienting.   
  
His deadly-sharp phalanges might’ve hurt if you weren’t soaked through for him, too. However, the gentle pricking merely urged you on. Your heart might as well have been the drums in a Nightcore cover of Chop Suey. You wished for nothing more than to-...

_ Ting, ting, ting...bah dah… bah dah… bah da… bah dah... _

The familiar sound of the first few notes of the Pink Panther theme rang through the air on the other side of the door, and, at first you both ignored it in favor of more…  _ urgent _ … matters, but then the theme song abruptly ceased, only to be replaced by a much louder, more brusque sound of Layne screaming his heart out. 

_ Ahhh… ahhh… ahhh… I believe them bones are me! _   
  
The two of you pulled apart with a groan from you and a moody snarl from him. He glowered at his phone, his fingers still glistening wet, as he tapped hard at the screen. “'Sup, chompers?” He tried to keep his voice calm, but you could tell he was slightly irritated from the way his sockets narrowed.   
  
You perked up when you recognized the voice on the other end as Papyrus, but couldn’t quite make out what was being said. His tone sounded… off… not merely energetic as he normally was, but practically frantic. An uneasiness grew in the pit of your stomach as you watched Axe’s eye lights winked out and rage bubbled forth once again. “Paps,  _ lock the door an’ window _ . Peaches an’ I are gonna be right over, and we’ll call the damn cops together.”   
  
And that was when your heart sank right into the aforementioned pit of your gut. You didn’t have to ask to know what the call was about. This asshole was now affecting not only  _ your _ life, but your friends’ as well. What if they went after your family? How long would it until you became a danger to mere coworkers as well?! “What happened?” 

Axe didn’t answer, but merely threw an arm around your shoulders to lead you back into the hallway long enough to snag your phone, and then drag you through a warp. Before you knew it, you were standing in his apartment. You were rather familiar with it; the walls were covered in cheerful art, the area rug was dyed an eye-watering shade of orange, and the whole space was populated with secondhand furniture that didn’t  _ quite _ match. It was kept meticulously clean as well (at least all of it except Axe’s room was) and always smelled of a fragrant mix of cinnamon and pumpkin pie with a slight undercurrent of bleach.   
  
Papyrus was shaking a little, his phone still clutched in his massive hand. Tears were leaking out of the edges of his sockets, and he could only shake his head whenever Axe tried to coax him into speaking. He merely pointed at the door with an unsteady, accusing finger until Axe took the plunge and opened it.   
  
A shocked gasp ripped its way from your body as the open door revealed a shine of clear plastic and dead eyes that stared at you from the dirty floor of the apartment hallway. Those green, slit-pupil eyes were still wide with terror as they must have been in the poor creature’s final moments. “The fuck?!” Axe bellowed at the sight of the decomposing body in its vacuum-sealed prison. He stepped back a bit, his mouth curling in disgust as he examined the thing.   
  
The remains of an unlucky calico cat had been purposefully placed as thoughtfully as a delivery from USPS right outside his door. You couldn’t be sure how it had died, but you certainly had a horrible inkling. It had been neatly sealed up in one of those 90s-era vacuum plastic bags, although by now… the gasses from the decayed corpse were starting to bloat the packaging while coffee-brown liquid pooled along the bottom.   
  
Papyrus let out a heartbroken wail as he finally collapsed on the couch. His skull dropped into his hands as he lamented the cat’s torturous passing. You did your best to split your attention between comforting him and speaking with the 911 operator, but he continued to sob until long after the police showed up. It broke your heart to leave him entirely in Axe’s hands to cry quietly in his older brother’s bedroom.

Officer Wainwright was heading the trio of officers sent out to handle the call. When he saw you there as he rounded the hallway, his expression grew grim and he sighed. “There a note with this one, too?”

You glumly pointed to a Barbie-pink Post-It note stuck to the corner of the bag. You hadn’t bothered to read it, and, quite frankly, you were afraid to. You watched as he knelt beside it for a moment, and then shock crashed over his features. “ _ Whisper?! _ ” His voice went a little high, and it was the first time you’d seen the stoic cop show anything close to surprise. He scowled severely then, and shot up to look you in the eye.    
  
“Was… was that  _ your _ cat, officer?” You asked, tentatively putting the pieces together.   
  
“The note says ‘Pretty kitties have nine lives, but there are only two between you.’ Does that mean anything to you?” His voice was hollow, and his forehead now shimmered with sweat. His irises were reduced to blue rings around the fearful expanse of his pupils. “ _ Does it?! _ ”   
  
“N-no!” You stammered out, but then fumbled for your phone to show him the messages. He nearly grabbed out of your hands to read through the slew of messages.    
  
When he had finished, he took a deep breath and slumped against the wall. “That cat used to constantly be at my daughter’s heels.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and dabbed at his face. “We’d been wondering where she’d wandered off to… “ He trailed off as he stared at the cat’s body. “They had to have been  _ this close _ -” He put his thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart. “-to my baby girl.”   
  
“Sounds like this ain’t just a warning t’ us, then.” Axe had sidled up behind you soundlessly, and now he pulled you close against him protectively.   
  
Officer Wainwright’s two attending officers were pale as ghosts. “What a sick bastard… your daughter is only four years old, isn’t she?” One asked. “Three and a half.” He sounded shaken to the core, and rightly so. Sure, this was a big city and it had its own fair share of crime, but stuff like this likely didn’t happen here often. “My god… “

“You should ask to be taken off the case.” The other told him while he yanked on a pair of gloves and pulled a bag from a small box he’d carried in.

“ _ No _ .” Officer Wainwright’s eyes lost all fear; there was only burning fury now there. It blazed white-hot in a way only a father’s can. “ _ I’m going to  _ **_personally_ ** _ drag this son of a bitch in. _ ”

“That’ll be hard t’ do if I catch ‘im first.” Axe let out a black-hearted chuckle. “I figure puttin’ handcuffs on a bloody pile o’ pulp’d be pretty damn difficult.”

“As long as there’d be enough of him left to stand trial, I wouldn’t blame you.”   
  
Axe smirked. “Well, I dunno ‘bout  _ standin’ _ per se, but… ya know… we’ll see, heh.”

By now, the commotion had some people peeking hesitantly out of their apartment doors before quickly shutting them again. One person called for them all to keep it down, to which Officer Wainwright merely flashed his badge and assured the neighbor that he and his team would be as quiet as was possible. The grumpy neighbor went back to minding his own business, and the evidence was cleared away in a few minutes.

“There should be video surveillance available for us to see who planted the cat.” He remarked as he thoughtfully tapped his pen against his lips. “I will request the tapes, and hope like hell this guy was dumb enough not to consider hiding his face.”    
  
“He’s dumb ‘nuff t’ fuck with mah girl an’ family.” Axe remarked off-handedly. “Might be he’s stupid ‘nuff t’ waltz ‘round like he owns the buildin’, too.”

This was where you brightened up considerably. “I know for a fact this building has cameras.” You felt a little stupid, honestly, for not thinking of it yourself. By sheer coincidence, you happened to know the owner personally. He was a good friend, actually.

"A coworker o' ours owns the place." Axe explained to Wainwright as you dialed in the number. "It's low-income... s'posed t' be a transition for some o' the people we work with t' get 'em off the street an' outta the shelter once they got a steady job. Some o' the others who volunteer live here, too, since it's convenient an' they get t' see their favorites thrive."  
  
Officer Wainwright rubbed at his jaw. "Ah, I see."

A short phone call later, and Joe was jogging straight down the hall with a worried frown. He slipped between the police and made a grab for your hand. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” He pulled you into a tight hug. You held onto him for a few moments before pulling back with damp eyes.

“Do you have all the tapes?” You glanced down to see he was holding a small folder of reusable, blank DVDs that were labelled things such as ‘South Hallway, Second Floor’ or ‘Third Floor, Elevator’. It was quite a hefty stack.

He straightened up pridefully as he handed them over to Officer Wainwright. “I pulled every single one from the last twenty-four hours.” You noticed that Axe hung back from Joe and Wainwright on the walk to Joe’s office, which struck you as odd. He stopped outside the office and leaned heavily on the top of fire extinguisher box, looking fairly irritated. Several minutes passed by until you were finally calm enough to say something.

 “Are you okay?” Compared to a finger, a dead cat wasn’t exactly a  _ relief _ , but it was a fair bit better in some regards.

“Yeah...just….” He scratched his claws over his skull. “‘M fuckin’  _ pissed _ ‘bout this fucker messin’ witchya… an’ then they go an’ try t’ do it t’ Paps an’ me.” He was gritting his filed teeth so hard you could hear them grinding against each other. “I wanna…” He cut himself off with a low, bone-chilling growl.

You slipped your hand into his and squeezed. “I hate that this is happening. I’m so sorry.”

“It ain’t yer fault.” He gave you a sharp, admonishing glare, which gradually softened the longer he gazed at you. “Really, it ain’t. I’m frustrated, is all-”   
  
The door opened much sooner than you’d expected. Officer Wainwright hung his head out of the crack, and he looked at once both irked and tired. “We just took a look at the footage… fast-forwarded through it all.”   
  
“And?”   
  
“Nothing.” He replied bitterly, and then sighed. “Well, there was  _ something _ , but it’s negligible. Somehow, the suspect managed to avoid every single camera in this entire building.” He ran a hand through his hair as he stepped outside. “The only thing we managed to catch was the thing being tossed from a blind spot to land right in front of the door.” He shook his head. “It does tell us that whomever is doing this is familiar with this building. Unfortunately, that only narrows the search down to about every single long-term resident in this damn complex, so…” He massaged his temples. “Damn, I need an ibuprofen before I deal with any more of this demented person’s antics.”

He reached into his pocket to pull out a travel dose of meds and washed it down with a gulp from a nearby water fountain. “We’re going to find this guy, ma’am. I promise you that, but he’s definitely not making it easy. I’m gonna have to take this footage down to the station, along with that damn cat, and write up a report. You two stay safe now, you hear?” He tipped his hat to you, shook Axe’s hand, and then left you both to trudge back to the apartment.

“Gods, this is such a mess.” You groaned, rubbing your eyes roughly as if you could somehow scratch the grotesque image of the dead cat from your mind via your corneas. “I hope Papyrus is going to be okay. That must have been so awful, considering how much he adores animals.”   
  
“He’ll be awright.” But Axe sounded more hopeful than sure. “Been through worse.” He grunted. 

“This sicko is obviously escalating, though!” You protested, making sure to keep your voice low as the two of you passed through the halls. “I’m terrified he might hurt either of you or  _ both _ ...or maybe my parents… or Lindsey… or maybe Joe-”   
  
“It’s gonna be fine, peaches. If this guy comes my way lookin’ for trouble, I think I can handle it.” He smirked at you. “Wouldn’t be the first time I was in a scrap, an’ prolly won’t be the last. ‘Tween me an’ that grump of a cop, I’d say this guy’s pretty well fucked.”   
  
“Grump?” You grinned. “Oh, pot, you  _ must _ meet kettle.”


	10. You've Got Mail

After the incident with the cat, you decided it was best to get an entirely new phone and phone number just for your own sanity. You kept your old phone as a back-up, but chose to put it in a random drawer to be forgotten about. As a further precaution, you made sure that you didn’t post your new number to any social media. The new phone only had a few contacts on it now; your boss, the shelter employees, your parents, and the skeleton brothers. You didn’t download any apps, except for Newsytube and Webflicks, just in case any games sold your information.   
  
You sighed as you curled up tighter under the blanket. It had been a painfully arduous week. It had been split between the police station and your workplace. Your work quality was suffering due to all the stress, which made you struggle to keep up with everyone else. Your boss had taken notice and, rather than reprimand you, directed you to take an extra couple of days off to get yourself together. 

That would’ve been helpful in any other situation, except this gave your traitorous mind time to wander and ruminate. Your thoughts at times seemed to stew in fear and you found it difficult to relax. In fact, you’d gone to an extreme to prevent being watched by tacking up small throw blankets over all of your windows,  _ in addition _ to keeping the blinds drawn. 

Right now, it was a bit easier, though, as Axe and Chompy were here to keep you company. Currently, Axe had a couple of screws clenched between his teeth while he worked on installing a second set of locks on the front door, a special burglar-proof strike plate, a door wrap, and a hinge reinforcement. His next projects would be your bedroom and bathroom doors, and then finally window locks. He’d even bought (and sharpened) a series of stainless steel bird spikes to screw into the outer window sills and burglar bars to install between the double panes. At this point, you wouldn’t have batted an eye if he put in a panic button under the kitchen counter or a secret panic room only accessible via the closet.   
  
It did make you feel wonderfully cared for, however, to know how far he was willing to go with this fortification process. Papyrus wasn’t to be left out of it, either. He was beside you on the couch with a pair of reading glasses on and scanning the manual for a pair of security cameras and a set of small, yet incredibly bright, motion-sensor lights for the driveway.    
  
You let them do their thing. They had apparently done similar things for their own house when they’d lived in the Underground (and for their apartment above ground when they’d first moved in), and were quite experienced with what needed to be done. Chompy had already made sure that there was at least one hidden weapon in every room; a BB gun with plenty of metal pellets was at home under your bed, a hammer was placed in the first drawer of your nightstand, a crowbar was neatly placed under your bathroom sink, a bo staff (where had he even gotten that?!) had been stored in your broom closet/laundry room, and an aluminium baseball bat had been slid behind the couch.   
  
While his brother worked away at the doors, Chompy decided to take a break from reading the camera manual. He picked up the three cheap burner phones and set about gluing velcro pads to the back of them. He got up and glued a secondary bit of velcro behind your tv, under your kitchen and bathroom sinks, and to the back of the nightstand. There wasn’t any need to put minutes on them; you knew as well as they did that the phones were there only for the calling of 911.   
  
Axe sat the power drill on the floor, blew away the dust to examine his work closely. Seemingly satisfied, he picked the drill up again, the tin of three-inch screws, and the rest of his supplies to move on to the bathroom door. You followed him with nervous eyes; was this really your life now? 

It made you cringe a bit inside to think how doing all of this must have set the both of them back, too. How could it  _ not _ remind them of their horrid, traumatic past? The guilt weighed on your mind as you observed them, but also kept you from interrupting out of fear of appearing ungrateful. So, feeling rather stuck, you did your best to pin your eyes to whatever was playing on the television at the moment and keep your peace. 

“Are you alright?” You whipped your head to see that Papyrus was looking at you with sadness etched into his face.   
  
“Yes…” You rubbed your eyes and sighed, then smiled weakly back at him. “Just tired.”   
  
He smiled sympathetically back and scooted a bit closer. “I was thinking how we could better reinforce the windows!” He announced to you. 

“Yeah? Lemme hear it then, big guy.”

He beamed, obviously proud of himself. “We should put in some type of spiky plants; cacti, or fast-growing brambles like raspberry or blackberry bushes! I was reading the other day that Spanish settlers used to plant mesquite around the borders of their land.” He thoughtfully tapped his phalange against the table. “Rose bushes would be good, too! We could get some from the store-”

“No!” You hadn’t meant to snap, you really hadn’t. “I’m sorry, Papy, but… no. No roses, please.” You did your best to save the situation by stammering out that you wouldn’t mind having a few raspberry bushes in front of the windows. He latched onto that, thankfully, and handed your phone to you so that you could look up local greenhouses to find some established plants.

Nearly two hours later, Axe was finished with the inner doors and returned to the living room. He was sweating lightly, and immediately went to the kitchen for a drink. “You two hungry?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Not starving, but I could eat.” 

“I am a bit peckish, yes!” Chompy chirped back at his brother happily. 

Axe grunted in acknowledgement that he’d heard you both. You couldn’t see, but could easily hear that he was rummaging through the fridge. “Keep workin’ on those cameras an’ lights, bro. I’ll handle makin’ up lunch.”

“Really?!” Chompy’s usually dim eye lights lit up and he grinned at you excitedly. “He  _ hardly ever _ cooks!” He told you in a hushed tone. “THANK YOU, AND YOU HAD BETTER NOT MAKE A MESS OUT OF THE KITCHEN!” He reminded Axe sternly.   
  
“I won’t.” There was very little bite to Axe’s short reply.

“I am almost done with the cameras.” Papy informed you before grabbing the drill and one-inch screws. “We just have to pick a couple of places to set them up!” He motioned for you to follow him outside.

Reluctantly, you followed and held the box of smaller screws. Thankfully, there wasn’t any need for a ladder due to his great height. He was able to easily secure the two cameras in strategic locations along the underside of the roof, which overhung the rest of the house by about six inches. Afterward, he began laying out the motion-sensing lights.    
  
He shut off the power, and began to wire up the light by splicing it into the existing outside lighting mount. You occasionally went inside to get him whatever tools he required, and made idle chatter with him while he worked. He made quick progress with it, as he had with putting up the cameras. At this point, you could say with complete certainty that you’d never lived in a more heavily fortified home.    
  
Papy must have taken you mentioning that as a point of pride, and so he strutted into your kitchen with the air of a hero returning from battle. “Axe, how is lunch coming along?”   
  
“‘S almost done.” You heard plates and silverware clattering about as the scent of something heavenly wafted in to tickle your nose. Your mouth watered as you peeked inside the kitchen to find him setting the table. “Hope ya like pad thai, peaches.”   
  
“Even if I didn’t, I don’t think I could resist something that smells as tasty as this does!” You watched as he divvied up portions to three plates and poured a bit of soda out into each cup. “Thanks so much for making dinner! You really didn’t need to-”   
  
“Meh, I felt like it.” He shrugged, but he was fighting back a smile even as he tried to be nonchalant about it.

Papyrus went to the bathroom to dutifully wash his hands while you and Axe stayed in the kitchen. “Thanks for  _ everything _ you’ve done today.” You murmured, putting one hand over his.

“Just wantchya t’ be safe.” He mumbled back. “Ya changed yer phone like ya said ya was gonna do, right?”   
  
“Yeah, I did. I’ll text you real quick so you have the new num-...” You pulled out your phone and blinked. The horror didn’t fully register with you until you’d stared at the screen for a solid five seconds. The tiny, reddish-orange icon that indicated a voicemail had been delivered seemed to stare back at you like some kind of mini Eye of Sauron. No one…  _ no one _ had any reason at all to leave you a voicemail except work or the shelter, neither of which would have contacted you unless it was a dire emergency.   
  
Axe leaned over when he saw your hesitancy and scowled. “Ya want me t’ take a look at it?”   
  
You exhaled slowly and shook your head. “N-no… I… I’m sure it’s just work or maybe someone from the shelter.” You tried to ignore the skeptical look he shot you, and jabbed the screen with your index finger. After typing in your code and tapping speakerphone, the message began to play.

“ **_All around the mulberry bush the monkey chased the weasel._ ** ” The hideous croaking of a voice changing machine sang in haunting, throaty notes. “ **_The monkey thought it ‘twas all in fun, but POP goes the weasel…_ ** ” For several, heart-pounding moments, there was only silence until that same voice crackled over your speaker. “ **_Why can’t you see me, Rosie? I tried so hard to make you see. I’ve been so fucking good to you. I’ve done everything! Everything!… flowers… chocolates… notes… and yet you STILL reject me. YOU ALWAYS CHOOSE SOMEONE ELSE OVER ME! WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!_ ** ” 

The screaming shorted out the voice changer so badly that it became only electric screeching for a bit until it cut off. Heavy, moist panting followed until the speaker got their second wind. “ **_Do you remember, Rosie? Back when you were in high school? Do you remember the bake sale? You looked so pretty with your rose-petal lips giving everyone a perfect smile. I remember, Rosie. I couldn’t forget! I was there, too, you know. I was there and I. Was. Watching. He was there, and he was smiling, too… oh, but not for long! There was enough laxative in that brownie to make him suffer for a while._ ** ” Unstable, black-hearted chuckles echoed in the room as tears began to blur your vision. “ **_Too bad… bad luck for me… I didn’t know his body was a ticking time bomb just waiting for the slightest strain… POP GOES THE WEASEL!_ ** ” You flinched hard, dropped the phone to the kitchen table, and leaped to your feet just as the mad ramblings were thankfully cut off by the voice messaging system’s time limit.   
  
Your mind reeled, your hands quaked, and tears streamed down your face. Your own nails bit into the flesh of your chest as an old wound tore itself freshly asunder deep in your heart. The world swam around you in a sea of emotional agony, and you were drowning. Air didn’t seem to wish to be drawn into the trap of your lungs. Light-headed and sick with grief, your legs gave way beneath your weight, but someone managed to catch you before you hit the floor.   
  
“Brother, I think she’s in shock! What do we do?!”

“Jesus H. Christ,  _ I don’t fuckin’ know!  _ Get ‘er t’ the couch... put a blanket around ‘er or somethin’... get ‘er some damn water t’ sip maybe?! I’ma call Officer What’s-his-face.” 

Most of what went on after that sounded muffled; it seemed as if your ears had been stuffed with a pair of those soft, orange plugs that your dad often used when out hunting. Almost none of the conversation or goings-on around you made sense at all.  _ They killed Ash… they  _ killed  _ Ash!  _ Bile rose in your throat and burned your mouth, even as that singular revelation played over and over in your head.  _ They killed Ash… they killed him…  it wasn’t an accident… it wasn’t…  _ “ _ They killed Ash… _ ”   
  
Officer Wainwright wasn’t sure what to make of the pitiful sight in front of him. There you were, head hung low over your knees, pale and shaking like a leaf caught in a summer gale, while Papyrus rubbed your back. “What is it that she keeps saying?”   
  
Axe’s fingers longed to dig viciously at his aching right socket, but instead he made a fist and grimaced. “Sounds like ‘They killed Ash’.” The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it,  _ goddamnit _ … 

“Do either of you know who ‘Ash’ might be?” Officer Wainwright sighed heavily when he received only silence as an answer. “Are they a co-worker, perhaps? A family member? Or maybe a friend of hers?”

“Friend?” Axe squinted at Wainwright as he internally fumbled to grasp for an answer that was only just out of reach. Ash… Ash… where in the hell had he heard that fucking name before? Friend… a friend of hers…  _ a boyfriend _ … “Holy fuck.” His eye light focused on you as he came to a soul-wrenching conclusion. “He… Jesus… Ash was a boyfriend o’ hers, I think. He died… somethin’ t’ do with his stomach...” He felt like an utter waste of space. Why couldn’t he fucking manage to remember something as important as that?   
  
The policeman sighed as he scribbled that down for later. “May I have the phone?” He caught the wary expression on Axe’s face. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to replay it with her here, I’m going to simply check the number it came from.”   
  
“See, that’s what’s confusin’ me.” Axe growled. “She changed her phone an’ number. Ain’t nobody ‘cept me, Paps, her boss, an’ a few people at the shelter who has the new number.”   
  
Officer Wainwright frowned as he wrote down the number used by the stalker to get ahold of you. “The last few times she received contact via a blocked number, which ran through a temporary phone number service.” He muttered. “Why the sudden change?”    
  
He tucked his notepad back into his pocket. “Well, it’s obvious she isn’t in any proper state to give us any further help. I don’t think she’ll need an ambulance like you feared, but I’d say it’d be best to keep her company until it passes. Whenever she’s able, please bring her down to the station with the phone.” He scratched his neck awkwardly. “God, I know it feels like we’re dragging one or all of you three down there all the time, but every tiny detail could be infinitely important.”   
  
“We understand, Officer!” Papyrus nodded. “I am sure you are incredibly stressed as well. I hope you have a good night moving forward from here.”   
  
“Thanks, you three take it easy now, okay?” He gave a bit of a wave before leaving.   
  
Papyrus rose from the couch with a heavy-hearted sigh. “Brother, get her to bed. I shall take care of putting the food away and cleaning up.”   
  
Axe didn’t reply; he simply hoisted you up with the throw blanket still tucked around you and headed toward the bedroom. He warped straight through the closed door, and pulled the newly installed deadbolt into place with a tendril of scarlet magic. Once he had you settled under the covers, he pulled you close. “‘M sorry, babydoll. Ya shouldn’ta had t’ find it out that way.”

“Th-they killed him… they could kill  _ you _ -”

He snorted derisively at that. “Queen Cuntdyne couldn’t even manage t’ do that, so I’d say this creepy freak better fuckin’ step up ‘is game. I’m mighty fuckin’ disappointed; all he’s brought t’ the table so far are a buncha texts, a few roses, some dumbass notes, a dead cat, a voicemail, an’ a single finger. That’s  _ nuthin’ _ , baby.” He coiled his arms tighter around you, his file-sharpened teeth bared in a snarl. “Yer okay, Paps an’ I are here. We ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen t’ ya.”   
  
“I’m worried about you, not me!” 

He smirked. “That’s sweet.” He pressed a kiss to your head. “Try not t’ worry too much, peaches. Either the cops get this guy… or I will.” He grinned, although you couldn’t see it with your face buried in his shirt. “ _ An’ he better hope like hell they get ‘im first. _ ”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, guys! So, I just started playing a game called Flight Rising! If any of you all play it or are interested in playing it, go ahead and send a friend request to me! My username is plain, old MeldaBurke. We can talk, trade baby dragons, play mini-games, and have proper nerdy conversations. XD <3

**Author's Note:**

> Heya, guys! I know you've been waiting on this one for a while, so...here it is!   
> Oh, and if anyone wants to see the pre-quel to this, you should check out my one-shot A Dance in the Dark from my collection One-Shot Wonders!


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